


The Thief

by Wintergrew



Category: South Park, South Park: The Stick of Truth - Fandom
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Barbarian Tweek - Freeform, Character Death, Class Differences, Elves, Feldspar Craig, Feudalism, Grand Wizard Cartman, High Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Middle Ages, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Craig Tucker, Princess Kenny - Freeform, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, South Park: The Stick of Truth, Stick of Truth AU, Thief Craig, War, feldspar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintergrew/pseuds/Wintergrew
Summary: The offer the Grand Wizard gave Craig was very simple: Steal back the Stick of Truth from the High Elf Kingdom and in turn his friend could return from banishment.A very loose adaptation/inspired by the fantasy lore and backstories the kids set up for themselves in Stick of Truth.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to create a fantasy au loosely using the lore the boys created for themselves for a while now. Keyword: LOOSE. I am taking bits and pieces of the backstories they had for themselves in SoT and using what I want to use and ignoring what I don't want to use. This is NOT going to be a retelling of SoT in an actual fantasy setting. This is another story taking from the premise of their in-game game and roleplay characters in the form of a fantasy adventure story in a way I think the boys could have possibly imagined for themselves, fantasy cliches and all. In terms of characterizations, I'm trying to keep them as true to their canon personalities while also applying the setting and a bit of how they themselves might write their fantasy character.
> 
> Craig is technically in Douchebag's role, I guess. Kinda. Douchebag isn't a character in this, being an ambiguous player character and all. Kenny is Princess Kenny because SoT Kenny is Princess Kenny--it isn't deep. I don't really plan on really going into the clusterfuck of the Princess Kenny lore presented in SP.
> 
> Characters will be adults in the story, the exception being this very first chapter. Please read tags, as many of them refer to this one.

The Kingdom of Kupa Keep was, technically speaking, Craig’s homeland.

 

It was the human wasteland that he was physically tied to, professing his half hearted loyalty by default. It was the largest and most significant of the human kingdoms, with a military might only rivaled by that of the High Elf Kingdom in the Great Forest. The capital of Kupa Keep was one of the largest cities in all of Zaron, with a large, overbearing castle for the ruling family. Although the royals were the official rulers of the land, much of Kupa Keep was overseen by a Grand Wizard said to be the most powerful human, if not being, in all of Zaron.

 

However, the city and it’s towering castle itself was not where Craig was raised. Growing up, stories of the city’s might were just as foreign to him as if they were from any other kingdom within Zaron. Afterall, he was born a peasant.  _ His  _ world was entirely made up of Sundorham, a small farming village with a population of less than 200 people, located on the very southeastern outskirts of the kingdom. It was a several day walk from the city, though to him it always seemed much further. 

 

Still, he didn’t mind his life in Sundorham at the time. It was uneventful and full of backbreaking work, sure, but even as a small child Craig didn’t mind the boring life. The land was all owned by Kupa Keep, so the farmlands were shared amongst the farmers while the houses and small handful of other businesses, such as the inn, were all in close proximity dead center of the land. They had a single doctor, but he was also a farmer out of necessity, only helping with health when required. They had only minimal commerce, mainly relying on traveling merchants for required goods. 

 

Virtually everyone in the village woke up at the first rooster’s crow and worked on the fields until it was dusk. The biggest concerns in life were tending to the harvest--always making sure there would be enough for winter, especially after the kingdom came and took their ration away. It was really only their presence that reminded them that they were actually a part of the Kingdom of Kupa Keep, which naturally wasn’t exactly the most pleasant reminder. Sure, they had merchants and other travelers pass by and stay at their small inn, but otherwise they were their own self-sustaining remote piece of land forgotten by the rest of Zaron.

 

It was a very quiet but happy life, living on the farm with his parents and sister. Craig’s mother had been the daughter of a respected nobleman in Kupa but gave up her life to marry his father. She was completely and utterly disowned from her family but she always said that she never regretted her decision. She claimed that she preferred the quiet life and fresh air of the countryside to the crowded, filthy life in the city. 

 

She didn’t have the stereotypical noblewoman air about her but instead was a very down to earth woman who could be harsh and strong when she needed to be. She worked on the farm and tended to the house the same as any peasant-born woman and earned the respect of the village to be treated as such. From her noble days, she only kept an orange potassium feldspar pendant. It wasn’t of any great value, she insisted, and was only a simple dull orange stone, but it had been a family heirloom, one she always proudly wore.

 

The only other trait that may have made her stand out in terms of her noble background was that she was educated, rendering nearly one of the only literate people of the village. Despite her husband’s protests, she taught Craig and his sister how to read as well, teaching them by writing letters with a stick into the dirt. They had to be careful, however. Teaching peasant serfs to read was strictly punishable by law.

 

At about age 6, his little sister Patricia hoped to use her recently acquired literacy to find a path for herself far away from the village. Unlike Craig, she wasn’t content with the quiet, uneventful life of a farmer. She hoped to make her way in the city, perhaps using her estranged bloodline as leverage to marry back into nobility. Despite her dainty stature that was small for her age, she was full of energy and life, wanting the life of a socialite--one who got to attend the grand parties in the castle, rub elbows with the throne, have  _ fun  _ in life.

 

Craig would catch her on the fields with a scarecrow pretending it was King Stuart, to whom she would gracefully curtsy and thank for the gracious invitation to his grand ball. She would then thank the Grand Wizard, for he made the beautiful gown she wore from his powerful magic. After the formalities were over, she would gossip away on the dance floor with the two young princesses who she claimed as her two best friends. 

 

Craig didn’t think much of her fantasies beyond finding them foolish and unrealistic. Everyone knew that King Stuart and Crown Prince Kevin were useless drunks who mostly sat around indulging themselves. The kingdom was functionally run by the Grand Wizard, a man who had a very ruthless reputation, definitely not the sort to use his magic to make dresses for peasant girls. Sure, Tricia was a pretty little girl who would probably grow up to be a beautiful young woman with her strawberry blonde hair and emerald green eyes, but a peasant is a peasant. Of course, when he pointed this out to his sister, she merely complained to their parents who in turn complained back to Craig.

 

Craig, even at a very young age, viewed himself as a very practical person. He was a peasant in a small village where the majority of the population, including his father, had family lineage that could be traced back to Sundorham hundreds of years. He figured it was his obligation to be content with the farm life because, chances are, it was all he was going to be able to get.

 

“Do you ever lighten up?” his friend Clyde had asked him when he pointed that out while working together on the fields.

 

Clyde was one of the few boys his age in his village and was also one of few who, like his mother, wasn’t born in Sundorham. His father was a merchant who traveled with his family far across many kingdoms selling leather boots and shoes, seeing far more of Zaron than most royalty could ever dream of. However, after the death of his wife in a tragic accident, Clyde’s father found himself unwilling to travel and instead took up life as a farmer. The decision, when they first arrived, led to a lot of distrust--Merchants were of a higher social standing in Kupa and he didn’t have a reason to be tied to this village like Craig’s mother did. Still, Clyde and his father were very friendly sorts and eventually found themselves becoming one with the rest of them.

 

Clyde had also become Craig’s best friend.

 

“You mean stop actually being realistic?” Craig asked, putting his bag of sprouts aside. “Let’s go through this from the top. We live on farmland owned by the royalty in Kupa Keep. Kupa Keep needs crops to sustain their government for, you know, food. They have  _ us  _ live  _ here  _ so that we can provide that food for them. In turn, they get their knights to protect us from the elves, barbarians, orcs, dragons, or even other human kingdoms in Zaron. It’s a machine, and this is the role we are a part of. Simple.”

 

“I think I wanna do what  _ I  _ want and not what Kupa Keep forces me to do,” Clyde scoffed. Clyde wasn’t the smartest person he knew and was very average in appearance with short, mousey brown hair, but what he lacked in those ways he made up in drive in a way that reminded him quite a bit of his sister. However, unlike his sister who was thoroughly deluded into believing that some nobleman would marry a peasant girl like her, Clyde’s intended get-out scheme was more based on fraud, more sneaking around and working his way up to a fortune. He even talked about the idea of piracy.

 

“Kupa is the kingdom where we technically live, and I don’t have any real reason to hate it. They take a ration of our crops, but we always have more than enough that it doesn’t really matter. They own our land, but we live on it okay enough. Yeah, the King’s a drunk asshole, but none of this has really impacted  _ my  _ life for the worse, so I don’t see why I should, you know, care.”

 

It became a topic the two did their best to avoid whenever possible.

 

And so the days went by in his quiet village. Season after season, harvest after harvest until Craig reached his early teen years. As such, especially being the only son, he was expected to take up more and more responsibility on their farm. He could no longer get away with wasting time on the field with Clyde, playing more than actually planting. He was expected to be focused, expected to dig up potatoes until his hands bled. When their small thachet house came apart, Tricia was expected to collect the replacement wood while Craig had the new duty of fixing the house himself.

 

As Tricia grew, her desire to leave the village grew stronger. She did her best to avoid having to work on the fields, so she instead took it upon herself to help at the village inn. She began to speak to more and more outsiders passing by, hearing more and more about the outside world. Hearing their stories, hearing the state of Kupa Keep, her hero worship of the upper echelons of Kupa society waned away almost overnight. She had grown more jaded, more cynical than she had any right to. The loss of her innocence upset Craig on some level, though he would never admit it.

 

Craig too started to realize that life as a peasant serf wasn’t as easy and simple as he thought. At night he’d lay down onto his hard, bug-infested hay mattress after a hard day’s work of harvesting, every inch of his body aching. His sister shared the bed with him, often kicking him in her sleep. Like most peasants, they also kept their livestock indoors at night, which one of the sheep had taken a liking to chewing his hair. He didn’t like to fantasize about impossible things, but in moments like that he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of bed the King of Kupa Keep slept in. 

 

“Have you heard the High Elf King has declared war on Kupa?” Tricia asked him one morning as they dug up potatoes. Or rather,  _ he  _ was. She was mostly just watching. It was late fall and there was a fear that frost was imminent, leading it to be of the utmost importance to harvest the potatoes as quickly as possible. Craig had asked her to help him instead of helping at the inn, though in the end she mostly just chatted away.

 

“At this time of year?” Craig asked skeptically yet uninterested as he continued to dig up a potato. It was rotten. So many this year were. He sighed and tossed it aside. 

 

“Apparently King Stuart is on his deathbed. I mean he was always useless, but Prince Kevin is considered even more inept than he is. Supposedly, there is talk that Princess Kenny is going to challenge him to a duel for the throne which could lead to instability in the kingdom. The High Elf wants to take advantage of our instability and--”

 

“Yeah, but that’s far as hell away from us. None of that dumb kingdom stuff ever affects us at all,” Craig continued to dig. His shovel had broken a while back and their family hadn’t been able to afford him a new one.

 

“It’ll affect us when the knights come in demanding double the amount of our crops for the war effort.”

 

Craig paused. 

 

“Aren’t we always at war?” Craig broke his pause to continue digging. He had a small rock jammed into his finger that was probably bleeding, but his hands were so caked in dirt that he didn’t want to attempt to get it out.

 

“Yeah, I mean we’ll have fights with the barbarians or some lone orc invasion, but we haven’t had a full on  _ war _ since we wiped out the Dark Kingdom a while back. I mean anyway, the High Elf Kingdom is different than any of those. According to a bard that passed through, they got war technology that us humans could only dream of. Plus they got  _ magic _ . Like,  _ all of them _ not just some lame old fat wizard who uses his powers as an excuse to be an asshole.  _ Apparently _ , the Grand Wizard  _ wants _ to go at war with the High Elves because he’s convinced that he’s the most powerful being in Zaron, on account of having the Stick of Truth and all. The elves have been trying to war for ages in order to get it back. King Stuart was pretty much the only thing holding the peace, probably because he likes elven wine too much.”

 

“Now I know you’re wrong,” Craig rolled his eyes, “Everyone knows the Stick of Truth is an old fairytale.”

 

“No it’s not! It’s true!” Tricia pouted, “How do you think the Grand Wizard was able to completely wipe out the Dark Kingdom so easily? I’ll explained it to you again: The Stick is the last remnant of an magic ancient elven tree that was destroyed by a dragon or something. Anyway, it’s said that the tree was the source of all the magic in Zaron, so even a stick of it is so full of magic that it grants the wielder unlimited power. All the Grand Wizard had to do was use it and then strip all the Army of Darkness’s power away.”

 

“Then why wouldn’t he just destroy the elves with the Stick then? Or for that matter, why would the elves fight someone with that sort of power?”

 

“ _ Obviously, _ you can’t use an  _ elven _ stick to wipe out the elves,” Tricia declared as if it were common knowledge, “And like I said, the House of McCormick liked to maintain the peace. Things the Grand Wizard  _ could _ do are stifled, so that’s why the immanent death of the king is kinda a big deal.”

 

“Okay, say that it’s true, how would  _ you _ know any of this?” Craig asked instinctively rubbing his face out of annoyance, unintentionally getting dirt all over it. He groaned as he used the sleeve of his equally brown tunic to wipe it off.

 

“I actually talk to the passing travelers, unlike  _ you  _ who likes to pretend like the outside world doesn’t exist,” she retorted. 

 

“Sorry that I don’t like to listen to gossip from drunk travelers who like to make a fool out of gullible peasant kids.”

 

“If you don’t believe me, just wait and see when the kingdom sends it lackeys here. Ask them if we’re at war,” she huffed, standing up to leave. Craig didn’t mind her going at that point, she wasn’t being of any help anyway.

 

“Fine,” he answered.

 

“Fine!”

 

“ _ Fine.” _

 

“We’re also going to need that barrel over there,” the knight announced the following week. The knight was someone Craig had never seen before, a man who held himself with class and stature in a way that made it obvious he thought of himself as important. The knight had noticeably flinched when he entered his family’s small, filthy thachet house, their old cow mooing in the center. It was an attitude that already made Craig hate him.

 

Craig’s father stepped forward. He was an astonishingly tall and balding man which within the village, gave him a strong physical presence. Still, his brown peasant rags next to the shiny iron uniform of the knight stripped much of this. His father easily towered over the knight, yet somehow next to this knight Craig had never seen him seem so small. “Sir, the barley harvest was very weak this year. You’ve already taken more than double--”

 

“Do not defy me, peasant,” the knight interrupted, “Every day the High Elves harken closer and closer to the outskirts of the Kingdom of Kupa Keep while our Great King lay dying. I would have thought that even someone of  _ your _ status would understand the concept of sacrifice for the greater good.”

 

“The ‘greater good’ is  _ my family _ starving this winter?” his father hissed, his restraint fading away at the knight’s insinuation, “This is ridiculous. We fought other wars, I don’t remember receiving this sort of treatment when Kupa put an end to the Dark Kingdom. You have no damn right to starve out  _ my  _ family, my kids!” 

 

“Perhaps we should take one of them off your hands then?” the knight smiled wickedly, “The boy here seems old enough to be useful in labor and the girl…now  _ she’s _ a very pretty one, isn’t she? You would be fully compensated, of course. ” 

 

The statement was enough to make Craig’s heart turn cold, as if ice had gotten in his veins. He could see his sister in the corner of his eye shuddering, instinctively grabbing their mother’s skirt.

 

“Take the barley and  _ get out _ ,” Craig’s mother responded, her tone collected yet full of venom. Unlike his father, the presence of the knight did not make her seem smaller. She hadn’t grown cold like Craig did. He could only see fire in her eyes.

 

The knight didn’t answer, he merely laughed a hearty laugh and went outside their doorway to get some of his men to help cart their stored food away. The other knights had visited all the other houses, the rations far more numerous than Craig had ever seen be taken away. It was if the entire Kupa Keep army had come to seize everything they had. 

 

“You’ll thank us when we win the war and save your sad, sorry lives,” a knight called out from his horse as they dashed away, the village’s crops trailing behind on small wooden wagons. They were all outside of their houses as they watched the wagons disappear of the horizon. Craig could hear some of them crying.

 

Though before long, the people in the village slowly got back to work. It was all they  _ could  _ do.

 

“You have to be careful with what you say, Thomas,” his mother warned, her voice harsh, “I know those types. They  _ will _ take our children away if they feel like it. I remember seeing it.”

 

“Why  _ didn’t  _ you let them take me?” Craig interjected, “That would have been the practical thing to do.”

 

Craig didn’t want to leave his village and he most certainly didn’t want to become a slave. He wanted to stay with his family, stay with Clyde. Yet, he didn’t want him and his family to starve to death. Of course, the idea of Tricia being taken away, his little sister who actually  _ wanted  _ a future? That terrified him to the root of his core. Yet, if  _ he  _ had gone, his family would probably be compensated enough to give all of them a chance.

 

He would have gone instead of his sister for his family if he had to.

 

“Craig don’t be ridiculous,” his mother scolded, “Family is the most important thing we have. We’re not selling anyone.” 

 

Craig looked at his mother. She was a very tall, very beautiful woman. Much too beautiful to be a peasant, Craig thought. He could easily imagine what she may have looked like in beautiful gowns, her long blonde hair done up in accordance to whatever the fashion trends were. The life she  _ had _ but gave up. Now she was a lowly farmer’s wife, draped in brown rags, her hair haphazardly tied to keep out of her face. Her feldspar pendant around her neck that she usually had concealed under her gown, when visible, looked very out of place. The soft hands of a noblewoman long gone, instead filthy and calloused like a peasant. Being a woman who gave up everything for this family, it made sense to Craig that she would think this way.

 

“We’re not going to  _ starve _ anyway, right?” Tricia piped in. She was still visibly shaken from the whole ordeal, yet still tried to bring forth her usual upbeat tone.

 

“I don’t know,” their father said breaking his silence, melancholy in his voice. He took one look at his two children and walked back into their small, sullen house.

 

“I’m sure the war won’t last long,” his mother tried to offer apologetically. She turned to follow her husband inside. “Perhaps when it is over, they will give us some of our supplies back and then some.”

 

Tricia kicked the dirt in front of her. “I hate that I was right,” she said under her breath. Craig could see a single tear fall down her face as she turned towards the inn, hoping that her favorite place would clear her mind. Craig was left alone, unable to think.

 

The winter came and, as expected, all of Sundorham struggled. A good number of people died, particularly the very young and very old, but Craig and his family had survived as did Clyde and his father. They didn’t prosper, however. Like everyone, they struggled to find enough food, Craig could notice that everyone around him visibly lost a considerable amount of weight. While in the previous year they were worried that Tricia would outgrow her clothes before they could get cloth for new ones, she seemed to shrink in her little dresses.

 

King Stuart had died that winter. The former Crown Prince Kevin had abdicated the throne as soon as he saw that Princess Kenny had the Wizard’s favor. That, at the very least, stopped a civil war. Still, it meant the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was now officially being run by a young girl no older than Craig. Of course it was what the Wizard would want, it helped him maintain power. The war with the elves would proceed.

 

Still, talks about the specifics of war disinterested Craig. He didn’t care, he only wanted the war to be over. He wanted the knights to stop stripping his village to the bare bones. The battles had all thus far remained outside of Kupa Keep, but the death of King Stuart had the elves pressing harder than ever to get within the Kingdom’s borders. It was all politics of faraway lands that had no real concern to Craig. He just wanted to have a full meal again.

 

“Can you believe the elves are so cruel, attacking our kingdom when we are still in mourning?” his fellow villagers would say. He shrugged. War was war, and he wanted to be focused on the coming harvest, hoping it would provide enough food for winter. This time, he would be prepared for the higher rationing percentages. He wouldn’t see his sister shrivel away.

 

“You know, our village is actually the closest to the elven border,” another had said.

 

“The knights will protect us,” Craig brought himself to say, “That’s why we give them so much.” He did believe that the knights were capable fighters, if anything. He had seen with his own the knights slaying a rogue dragon that threatened the village when he was a small child. The knights were callous and arrogant, but they did serve their purpose. The knights were ecstatic that they got real action out in their boring post, while the village was saved and had meat to last them an entire winter. It was amazing how war changed their perspective on knights so much.

 

As August came, so did the time to harvest the first of the barley. Craig hated harvesting barley almost as much as potatoes, the large heavy scythe required made his shoulders ache. Earlier crops had been harvested enough to curb starvation, but not enough to put on weight, especially with the military seizing so much of it. Barley, however, was a big staple crop in their diet, providing bread and ale, the latter they could also sell in the inn. 

 

He, his mother, and Clyde were in charge of harvesting the barley at the very edge of Sundorham, at the furthest reaches of the field. Clyde claimed he didn’t mind harvesting barley but watching him, Craig could see that he was terrible at it, haphazardly swinging his scythe nearly hitting Craig multiple times. Both their fathers were overseeing the grazing cattle today while Craig’s sister, who at about ten, was considered old enough to begin training to be the next innkeeper. Working on the field, he couldn’t help but envy her.

 

“Clyde, pay attention,” Craig’s mother had scolded his friend as he swung around the scythe in a dangerous fashion. She was sitting on the ground, taking her break. The harvest was plentiful this year, much to their relief. Still, it meant much more work for them.

 

“Sorry ma’am,” Clyde blushed.

 

“We should hide some of this,” Craig announced, “We don’t want Kupa to come in and claim they need even more because we’re having a good harvest.”

 

“We would need to be careful,” his mother warned, “Hiding food is a crime punishable by death.”

 

“Yeah, we should have enough to survive regardless,” Clyde announced, swinging his scythe around with only minimally more care, “We should be safe this winter.”

 

“No one in this village is safe with you swinging that around,” Craig retorted.

 

“Oh yeah?” Clyde grinned, “Then watch this!” He lifted up the scythe around in a circle, cutting all the barley unevenly around him in full circles like a windmill propeller. To finish, he swung the blade directly into the ground.

 

_ BOOM!  _

 

A noise went off the second as he planted his scythe directly into the ground.

 

“What the hell was that?” Craig asked, straightening up.

 

“That wasn’t me was it?” Clyde asked. It was way too loud to be from the scythe.

 

“No way, you’re not that strong,” Craig instead answered.

 

“Wanna go check it out?” Clyde smirked. 

 

“Boys, stay here,” Craig’s mother stood up suddenly. Despite that, Craig couldn’t help but instinctively follow her.

 

“Craig, I said stay here,” she scolded. Craig could see that her tone and expression was dead serious. There was  _ fear _ in her eyes.

 

Craig grimaced, “If something happened, I think I should be able to see what.”

 

“If you think it’s dangerous, I’ll stay here, ma’am,” Clyde announced, plopping himself on the ground.

 

Craig stretched his body upwards to try and clearly look to the village towards the horizon. From what he could see, the village appeared fine, though he could see people exiting their houses and farmers on the field running towards it to see the commotion of whatever happened.

 

“I don’t get it,” Craig said.

 

“Shh!” his mother hissed, her hand put on his chest, holding him back. Craig was startled but he obeyed, standing in silence.

 

Then he heard it. A very soft sound in the distance, coming from far beyond the other side of the village. It started very soft, making Craig first wonder if he was imagining it. Once he realized he wasn’t, although he could hear  _ something _ he didn’t know what it was. Slowly, it grew louder until he could finally make it out. It was the sound of music. It was a very sweet melody, like something out of a dream. The type of music that never graced a village like Sundorham. Gradually, as it got louder and louder, Craig felt himself drawn to it. 

 

“Music?” Clyde asked. His mother’s face turned ghostly pale.

 

“Boys, I need you to run away as far as you can. Out of Sundorham, to anywhere that will take you,” she very suddenly instructed.

 

“What are you talking about?” Craig asked. The music was beautiful, Craig wanted to go  _ towards _ it.

 

“I’m going to try and find Patricia, and then I will be right behind you. But even if I’m not, I need you two boys to keep running.”

 

“What? That doesn’t make sense,” Craig objected, “It’s just some weird music. If it’s something to worry about, we should come with you to find her. And what about dad?”

 

“Craig, listen to me.”

 

The music grew louder and louder as his mother began to run back towards the village. Clyde stood up, unsure of whether he should run away or follow her. Craig on the other hand, made up his mind and ran after his mother. None of this made sense. Why was she so terrified?

Another boom. The ground shook forcing Craig to stumble, nearly losing his balance and falling to the ground. The music still grew louder.

  
  


From the corner of his eyes he saw bright balls of light of many colors flying up in the air. At first he wondered if they were birds. He looked to the sky so he could see clearly.

 

“Arrows?” he asked himself.

 

Not just any arrows, but fame-lit arrows, lit in unnatural colors that could only mean they were magic-infused and coming straight for Sundorham. The arose from the horizon, no signs of people who may have sent them. They were very fast, yet somehow it felt as if everything was moving in slow motion for Craig. As if his mind needed more time to register what he was seeing. 

 

Still, in a matter of seconds, the arrows landed. They hit fields and buildings, instantly causing whatever they hit to go up into flames. People hit by the arrows dropped instantly to the ground. Even from far away he could hear their screams.

 

Craig’s eyes grew wide. His village. His home. Tricia.

 

“Craig, get  _ out of here!” _ his mother demanded, stopping in her place. She grabbed her son tightly, fingers digging into his shoulders.

 

“Tricia is in there!” Craig yelled. He could see the inn in the distance, already catching flames. He could see figures running out, but it was much to far away for him to distinguish anyone.

 

“I’m going to find her, but I need you and Clyde to run.”

 

“Mom, what’s happening?” Craig’s voice cracked.

 

“The war,” she told him, “The elves.”

 

“But the knights...they’re supposed to--”

 

“This means they were probably all  _ killed _ , Craig,” her grip tightened as she shook him, “I know you think knights are all powerful beings, but the elves are dangerous.”

 

“I don’t...I should help--”

 

“Craig, for Clyde. Run away. Find people who can get help. I promise, I’ll try to get your sister, but I won’t let you follow me into that. Hopefully your father has already run away. I need you to get to safety for me.” Her grip tightened, but somehow was less angry than before. The music was at full blast, making her harder to hear.

 

“Leaving you?” Craig asked, his voice cracking. He still wasn’t able to process what was happening.

 

His mother let go of her son’s shoulders and quickly reached to her necklace as she took it off, careful to not break the chain. She placed it in his hand and squeezed his fist around it. 

 

“Craig, you escaping is the best thing you can do to help us. You were willing to be sent away for us, so now is your chance.” 

 

This couldn’t be happening. Craig wasn’t one for showing outward emotion, let alone crying, but his vision clouded and he could feel tears escape down his cheeks. The village structures were made of cheap wood, it would easily burn with normal fire, let alone magic infused fire. This couldn’t be happening. Fire circled the village, the barley they were trying to harvest immediately disintegrating. Flames grew and grew, and would eventually reach where he and his mother stood. All of their hard work. All of their food.

 

Craig had never seen so much fire. It couldn’t be happening.

 

Another boom.

 

With that, his mother shoved him hard in the opposite direction, knocking him to the ground. She ran faster towards the village, though the path to it becoming more and more engulfed in flames. He could smell the smoke, the winds blowing it towards him.

 

“Run and don’t look back!” she yelled.

 

Craig could see another blanket of arrows heading for the village from the sky. He couldn’t watch. As if his body moved on its own, he stood back up and ran, running away from the village. He ran faster than he knew possible, his legs feeling like they were flying. His fist clenched his mother’s necklace as if his life depended on it.

 

He approached Clyde again. He was standing, frozen in place as if in shock. His one hand covered his mouth and tears were running down his face, barely noticing his friend approaching him. Craig didn’t want to know what he was seeing. With his free hand he yanked Clyde’s arm as he passed him, forcing him to follow. Clyde wordlessly joined in running.

 

Clyde was much slower than Craig, but Craig refused to let go.

 

Another boom. Craig ran even faster, nearly causing Clyde to yelp and nearly trip behind him.

 

Craig’s mind went blank as he ran, neither him nor Clyde saying anything, only huffing. All he could think of was running. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to get  _ somewhere _ . He wasn’t even sure when he had run far enough to no longer hear the booms or the music. 

 

They ran for hours. Although every inch of his body begged him to stop or at least slow down, he wouldn’t. It was hard to breathe, but he carried on. He only slowed when Clyde’s endurance failed to match his pace, as he refused to let him go.

 

After an amount of time impossible for Craig to tell, it became dusk. The land that which they were running on were all flat grassland, all looking the same. Although Craig kept them going beyond his limits, the adrenaline and their endurance waned more and more. Eventually, Clyde abruptly stopped, the force causing Craig to topple forward, nearly dislocating his arm.

 

The boys huffed and wheezed. They were too out of breath to speak, both collapsing onto the soft ground as they tried to get their bearings. Craig’s lungs ached even more than his sore legs. His vision was still cloudy, but he was unsure if it was from tears, sweat, dizziness or a combination of the three. He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing stars behind his eyelids, as he wiped a layer of sweat off his forehead. He tried to breathe, trying to make his heart stop pounding as though it were about to jump out of his chest. He desperately needed water, but he had none. His canteen he had attached to his belt was empty long before the invasion.

 

“Cr-Craig,” he could hear Clyde gasp for air. Craig’s own lungs gasped even harder, rendering him unable to respond.

 

He was aware that his shoulder was also in pain. Perhaps Clyde  _ did _ dislocate it.

 

A sudden memory made Craig sit up suddenly, his eyes shooting open. He opened his left fist, making sure his mother’s necklace was still there. It was. It was covered in sweat and leaving indentations on his palm, but it was there. He didn’t drop it. A feeling of relief cloaked him. 

 

His eyes shut again and he collapsed back down, unconscious from exhaustion before his head hit the ground.

 

\---

 

When Craig awoke he was sure he was drowning. Water was engulfing his face and entering his mouth, spilling up into his nose. Had he fallen into the river just beyond Sundorham? His father had always warned him about standing on the unstable rocks of its bank.

 

“Craig…” a cracked, dry voice called out to him.

 

Craig opened his eyes, choking on the water Clyde was trying to force down his throat.

 

“What the hell!” Craig sat up suddenly, his voice unrecognizably dry and cracky. His throat burned.

 

“Craig!” Clyde dropped his jug of water and hugged him, tears spilling down his face. “You wouldn’t wake up! I thought you were going to die. You scared the hell out of me!”

 

Did Clyde rescue him from the river?

 

His vision began to focus, though the lower half of his vision was obscured by Clyde’s shoulder, as he hugged him tightly, sobbing into him. They weren’t among the trees surrounding the river bank. They were among a grass field and--

 

The fire. Red, blue, green, yellow, pink flames that only magic could create, flying in on a blanket of arrows. The screams from his village, becoming engulfed by them. His mother running towards it, telling him to run. 

 

His eyes instantly flooded with tears, spilling down his already wet face. He didn’t sob like Clyde or make  _ any  _ sound, only silently letting the tears fall. He gently wrapped his arms around his friend, lightly accepting the hug as he stared off into the distance.

 

“What are we going to do?” Clyde sobbed as he eventually pulled away. He was always a big crybaby. 

 

Craig stretched his shoulders and back and could feel all of his bones crack. The muscles in his legs were extremely sore from running for hours without break and his shoulder still hurt. He tried to inconspicuously wipe his tears on his sleeve. It was then he realized he was still tightly gripping his mother’s pendant.

 

“We need to help the village! P-People may still be trapped there. We have to find our families,” Craig declared, his voice still hoarse. He tried to stand up but he felt like a baby deer on wobbly legs. Clyde reached to his canteen on the ground and offered it to Craig, a few drops still in there. Craig swallowed it all as fast as he could.

 

“Are you serious Craig?” Clyde’s voice shook, slightly bewildered.

 

“Of course! Sundorham is in danger, Clyde. We have to help them!” Craig took his mother’s pendant and carefully opened the clasp and put it around his neck, concealing it under his dull brown tunic.

 

“Craig, I don’t think Sundorham exists anymore.”

 

“I mean they probably burned down all our buildings, but maybe we could help put out the fire in the crops. I mean the  _ people _ \--”

 

“Craig,  _ you’re  _ the logical one. Do you really think the elves would use magical fire arrows that you could just  _ put out _ ?”

 

“Well we should still meet up with the others who--”

 

“Craig! There were like a bajillion arrows! Straight for the town! The only reason we didn’t get hit and killed is because we were at the part of the field that was furthest reach from their approach possible. Otherwise  _ we’d  _ be dead!” Clyde’s voice cracked with the last word as a new batch of tears ran down his face.

 

Craig didn’t believe him. His mother said that she was going to grab Tricia and run. She was going to catch up to them. Craig and Clyde just ran haphazardly straight, as far as possible from the village.

 

Craig had never left Sundorham before.

 

“We should meet up with the others in another village,” Craig continued, ignoring what Clyde had said, “Do you know where we are?”

 

Clyde sighed, knowing better than to argue with Craig’s stubbornness. His young childhood days traveling as a merchant with his parents had taught him navigation skills. He wiped his face of his tears. “We went west, and the capital was northwest from Sundorham. There’s other small villages like our own that are technically closer, but that is guessing that they weren’t attacked too. Plus, poor villages aren’t going to want to take in young kids of no relation to them. I think the capital is the only place we  _ can _ go.”

 

“How far?”

 

“I would guess maybe a day or two. That’s if we are going in a straight shot, which we probably won’t. We  _ could _ end up hopelessly lost forever,” Clyde sniffed.

 

“It’s the best we can do,” Craig stretched some more, trying to get used to standing on the weight of his sore legs. His skin felt hot, and he figured he had a fever, probably from a mix of overexertion and stress. He wiped off the excess tears from his face. He wasn’t crying anymore.

 

“Even if others survived, a lot of people died, Craig. Our village is destroyed. We will probably never go back.”

 

“Where did you get the water?” Craig asked, dodging Clyde’s statement and motioning to the jug his friend was holding. They both always carried jugs of water with them, but he knew there was no way Clyde would have a full bottle to force down his throat.

 

“There’s a pond nearby,” Clyde’s sighed again, knowing Craig was hopeless, “I went looking to see if I could find anything while you were passed out.”

 

“Take me there, and then we’ll go. Walking this time.”

 

“I want to take a break today. I think we both should, given what just hap--”

 

“No.”

 

Wordlessly, Clyde resigned to his friend, picked up his jug, and started leading Craig. He was also limping from his own sore legs.

 

The place Clyde led them to was a very small pond that was probably not of the most sanitary water, but Craig didn’t care. His thirst found him painfully picking up his pace, running directly into the meter deep water, splashing his face and drinking as much as he could possibly force down his throat. Clyde sat down at the bank, silently refilling his jug. Craig could see from the corner of his eye that he was sniffling again.

 

Craig floated on his back, ran his fingers through his wet black hair, and wished he could stay there forever. He knew once he got out, he would be annoyed how soaked his clothes were, but right then it didn’t matter. Tricia and him both loved to swim in the river back home. They didn’t get to often, most times they went to the river they only had time to stay there to use it for practical purposes, so swimming was a rare excursion. The sudden wave of nostalgia both cheered him up and made his heart ache.

 

Tricia was okay. She had to be. 

 

Craig stood up in the pond, letting the water drip off his clothes. He was right, the feeling of wet clothes clinging to his skin did piss him off. Still, Clyde and him had to go.

 

“How do we figure what way to go?” Craig asked.

 

Clyde looked up at his friend tiredly. “The sun rises in the east. Given the sun’s position and the time of year, it’s probably about ten or eleven. We ran almost exactly straight west for hours, probably going what would be a day’s walk by foot, so we need to go north, which is that way,” he pointed off into the distance.

 

“How sure are you?”

 

“I’m not sure of anything, Craig. We don’t have a map or compass and  _ could _ be wandering forever, Zaron is huge. _ Kupa Keep _ is huge.”

 

“You’re going to need to do better than that.”

 

Clyde sighed, “Stars are a better navigation.”

 

“So we’ll head north and once it gets dark out and we’re about to go to sleep you can try and better our positioning.”

 

Craig adjusted his necklace, making sure it was fully secure and safe around his neck, and started off in the direction Clyde had pointed. He could hear Clyde scramble up in the grass and try to follow him.

 

For the most part, the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was barren grasslands that all looked exactly the same. It was good for walking but very easy to get lost in. It was great land for farming, which was the main industry in Kupa, but where there weren’t settlements there wasn’t much food or vegetation.

 

“We’re going to starve to death,” Clyde whined several hours in, allowing himself to suddenly drop onto the ground.

 

“We’re not going to starve to death, Clyde,” Craig squatted down next to him. He figured that today they could take breaks. 

 

“At least I’ll be able to be with both my parents again,” Clyde’s voice cracked, tears pooling in his eyes again.

 

“Your dad is probably fine.”

 

“I saw the flaming arrows. I saw them hit people. It was too far to tell, but I saw a grown man with hair like his get hit straight through the torso and fall,” Clyde huffed, making himself hysterical.

 

“There are a lot of brown haired men in our village.”

 

Clyde didn’t answer. He merely continued to sob.

 

That night, they slept in a small thicket of tall grass that would hopefully conceal them from any potential elves or bandits. Craig had found a few dandelions on their journey for them to eat, but it wasn’t nearly enough to fill them up. The even bigger problem was that they had ran out of water.

 

It wasn’t a completely clear night, but Clyde had determined, before crying himself to sleep, that they should go slightly more east the next day. Craig didn’t know how good Clyde’s navigation skills actually were, but he figured that was their best bet.

 

“The capital isn’t going to let orphaned peasant refugees just live there, you know,” Clyde told him the next morning as they made their descent, “Unless you want slave labor.”

 

“Well, good thing we’re not  _ orphaned  _ peasant refugees then.”

 

Clyde reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flattened round stone that reminded Craig of a coin. It was engraved with an intricate design as well as his name: Clyde.

 

“What’s that?” Craig asked. His voice was rough, he needed more water badly.

 

“It’s my merchant identification,” Clyde explained, “It’s how merchants are able to freely move across Zaron or even a specific kingdom without their residency and status being questioned. We were supposed to give it up once we moved to Sundorham and became farmers, but my dad hid ours. He told me not to tell anyone, but to keep it on me at all times.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, I can say that I was just an unfortunate merchant who happened to be in Sundorham at the wrong time and managed to escape,” Clyde said, looking sullenly at the stone. He squeezed it in his fist. “You should think of a cover story too.”

 

“I won’t need one,” Craig announced.

 

“What if you’re wrong?”

 

Craig’s chest got tight. 

 

“I’m not.”

 

The third day it poured rain. Even growing up in a farming community that relied on rain, Craig had never been more thankful for it. The thick mud stuck to their shoes, however, making their pace much slower. Clyde ran around like a small child, trying to catch raindrops in his open mouth. Ordinarily, Craig would have teased him, but seeing him play around like his normal self made Craig smile. Probably the first time he did since their village was attacked.

 

The fourth day they were getting worried. It was sunny again, but their bodies were caked in mud from having been forced to sleep on the wet ground. The fatigue had also gotten to them, walking for days without any proper food. It was now double Clyde’s projected time to reach the city and they hadn’t even found an official road.

 

“Living was nice while it lasted,” Clyde remarked dejectedly. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his voice was weak. So different from the boisterous tone Craig was used to, even when he was crying. Perhaps he had ran out of tears.

 

Craig hadn’t cried once since they began their trek from the pond.  Still, even he was starting to feel that their journey was becoming pointless. He wasn’t willing to admit that vocally, however. 

 

Craig could feel the orange feldspar stone heavily against his skin. He wanted to go home. He wanted to collapse in his uncomfortable, bug filled straw mattress. He wanted his sister to kick him in her sleep hard enough to bruise him. He wanted the sheep to painfully yank out some of his hair right after he had finally fallen asleep again. He wanted his father to scold him to be quiet and let him sleep, even if Craig was annoyed that it wasn’t his fault. He wanted his mother to wake them both up in the morning with a bowl of pottage and a side of barley bread. He wouldn’t care if it was painfully watered down from their lack of food. Having her cooking again would be enough for him.

 

Craig’s heart began to pound and his eyes grew misty. He bit his lip hard.

 

“Wait a second,” Clyde exclaimed, his tone cautiously more upbeat.

 

“What?” Craig asked. He tried his best to sound natural, ignoring the newfound emotions that hit him like a wall.

 

“Is that--WE’RE SAVED!” Clyde yelled, running forward despite his exhaustion.

 

“What are you talking about?” Craig asked, his voice now of a more genuine Craig-like confusion.

 

“IT’S THE ROAD!” Clyde yelled, tears running down his face out of relief. He ran up the way a little more, and sure enough Craig too could see a long strip of brown dirt untouched by grass, extending seemingly infinitely in both directions. As soon as Clyde reached it, he let himself drop and lay down on it as if it were the softest mattress. In actuality, the rocky road hurt Craig’s feet, especially given that the bottom of his shoes had worn holes. Still, it was something new. Craig had never seen an actual road before. Sundorham wasn’t attached to one.

 

“I don’t see the city,” Craig commented.

 

“Well no, and we might still be far,” Clyde answered, smile still on his face, “But I know this road! It connects to the capital! We just need to keep continuing down it, and eventually we’ll hit it.”

 

“Eventually?”

 

“I don’t know how far, but we’re on the right path! We’re not--We’re not  gonna be wandering aimlessly!” Clyde continued to sob out of joy on the ground. 

 

Craig wanted him to get up and immediately begin their trek towards the city, but decided after all they’ve been through to let his friend have his moment. Craig sat down on the ground next to him and looked up to the sky. He closed his eyes and took a much needed deep breath.

 

Before long, they began to head down the road. As luck would have it, it only took them a few hours down the road before they could see the city in the distance. At first Craig wondered if his eyes were playing cruel tricks on him, perhaps the thirst and exhaustion finally getting to him, but Clyde quickly announced that he saw it too. Or rather, screamed. 

 

Craig knew the city was one of the largest in Zaron, surrounded by a very grand mote and intricate stone walls, the highest walls in any human territory. He had been told stories from his mother, Clyde, travelers, and even other villagers. But as a young person who had only ever seen a small village of 200, nothing could prepare him for this.

 

The two boys were absolutely filthy. Mud covered Craig’s already brown, very cheaply made peasantly tunic and pants as well as his hands and face. He was sweaty, his shaggy black hair sticking to his forehead as if he had just finished swimming. Thirst and heat had made his lips chapped until they bled. Not to mention that he was incredibly weak from exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. Clyde was always one of the nicer dressed boys in Sundorham, given his father’s comparative wealth, but even his own red tunic had gotten covered in mud and looked little better than Craig’s. His own brown hair was all over the place, sticking up in every which way. Dark circles shadowed both of their eyes, giving them a zombie like appearance.

 

“We were unfortunate people who just happened to pass Sundorham when everything happened,” Clyde instructed as they approached the gate.

 

“No, we’re two citizens of Sundorham looking for our families and neighbors because hopefully they didn’t get as pathetically lost as we did.”

 

“You can just say you’re a traveler or something. Just be sure to make up a name or whatever, in case they have a birth registry.”

 

“Clyde, enough,” Craig scolded. Still, his heart pounded. This was the moment of truth, to find his family. They were in the city,  _ surely  _ they were. They were probably worried sick about him. The villagers would find a way to rebuild Sundorham. It would be long and hard work, but they had to.

 

There was only one entrance to the city, given that the place was surrounded by tall brick walls and a mote. The iron gate was equally tall and imposing, located at the end of a simple wooden bridge. The gate was closed--Kupa Keep’s city didn’t just let anyone in. Feeling confident that he knew what he was doing, Clyde led the way and approached the gate.

 

“State your business,” the gatekeeper demanded. He wore simple yet expensive looking cloth clothing, clearly not a knight. Or at the very least, not the type Craig was familiar with. There were armor-clad knights all around, however, defending the entrance from anyone who tried to enter the city without permission.

 

Clyde reached into his pocket and tossed his stone over to the gatekeeper. “I’m Clyde, son of a merchant called Roger, and this is my friend. We’re citizens of the Kingdom of Kupa Keep here to give and gather information on the state of Sundorham.”

 

The guard laughed, “Sundorham? There isn’t much ‘information’ about  _ that  _ place anymore.” 

 

Craig’s chest tightened. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. 

 

The guard continued to chuckle as he closely examined the stone. After checking it out, he tossed it back to Clyde and walked over to the gate and used the lever to raise it. 

 

“You kids are in luck,” the gatekeeper said as he signaled the two towards knights, “The Grand Wizard wants any information on the attacked villages. Follow the knights here and they’ll take you to where you need to go. They’ll give you your answers.”

 

Craig and Clyde were pushed along by the knights towards the city. Craig wanted to protest, to demand answers, but Clyde grabbed his arm and gave him a knowing look. A firm  _ “don’t try it, they’re going to give us answers in a few minutes anyway”  _ look.

 

The inside of the city made Craig almost forget himself. There were more people in the square in his line of vision than he had probably seen combined in his entire life. He saw women in elegant gowns like his mother described, women in rags equivalent to that of a farming peasant. There were smells he had never smelled before, store windows full of things he had never imagined, merchants peddling goods on the street. Little children running with toys that no one in his village could ever dream of.

 

Of course, he couldn’t stop and take any of this in. The knights pushed him and Clyde along, going at a brisk pace. They turned to a door, a tower within the great wall, and practically shoved them inside. It was dark and damp, dimly lit by torches, and contained a large staircase that they were promptly ordered to go up in. They were led it a better lit but still imposing room, containing a large candle-lit table with two other knights guarding the door.

 

“Sit,” a knight ordered, signaling them to two chairs, each with a bowl full of water and a wet cloth, presumably for them to wipe some of the mud off their faces and hands. Clyde quickly abided while Craig sat very hesitantly. As soon as they did, the knights that had led them turned to leave. Craig shot up from his chair.

 

“But what about--”

 

“Sit down,” the same knight ordered even more harshly, “Someone will be with you shortly. You should clean yourself up first.”

 

Craig balled his hands into tight fists but he complied. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t get why they had to go through hoops to get information. He didn’t get how Clyde just sat still with an unreadable expression, carefully cleaning off his face and hands. Craig left his own wet rag untouched.

 

They sat in silence for what felt like forever until eventually a tall figure entered. He was an adult man who didn’t appear to be dressed as a knight, instead wearing intricate clothes, the most notable being a striped blue cape. He appeared to be about the age of Craig’s parents with jet black hair and a mustache which, despite the apparent value of his clothes, did not appear to be neatly shaven. In fact, his entire demeanor appeared to be somewhat haggard.

 

“Hello boys,” was all he said as he entered in room and took a seat, a slight slur to his speech.

 

“Listen this is stupid,” Craig said flatly, “We just want to know the damage that happened to Sundorham and where all the survivors are.”

 

“Survivors?” the man asked, his voice even more obviously slurred.

 

“Yes you drunk asshole,” Craig’s heart pounded in his chest, “That’s why we’re here. We want to know what happened to Sundorham.”

 

“Sundorham doesn’t exist anymore, kid,” he laughed, “The buildings were all burned to the ground. They say every last person, every last child was killed.”

 

Craig froze but his heart pounded even harder. He wouldn’t be surprised if the entire city heard the drum-like beats in his chest. “I don’t believe you. You’ve  _ had  _ to have had refugees that’ve escaped.”

 

“Nope,” the guard continued, “We had people check. They even got the animals. Damn magical elf fire, apparently, won’t stop for anything. They say the current High Elf Queen is nasty, wanting to starve us out by killing our farms.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Craig repeated, his body physically shaking as the anger rose, “People can run away. People run away from things all the time.”

 

“Not even the knights could outrun this magic,” the man answered, his tone getting even more annoyed, “The entire battalion meant to guard them were slaughtered. Knights  _ everywhere _ are being slaughtered.”

 

“How would  _ you _ know anything about this magic?!” Craig gritted his teeth.

 

Without hesitating, the man looked towards one of the candles in the center of the table that was unlit. He snapped his fingers, and from them came out a small orange flame. He brought his hand to the candle and lit it.

 

It was a normal flame, unlike the multi colored ones he had seen engulf his village, but it was very clear to Craig what just happened. His eyes grew wide. The man had used  _ magic. _

 

Unlike with elves, the ability to wield magic was an extraordinarily rare gift for humans. Within Kupa Keep, the Grand Wizard didn’t want competition. Well, he claimed that too many magic users threatened the safety of the Kingdom, but Craig never bought it. The Grand Wizard had decreed many years ago that most humans, especially commoners, who showed signs of magic ability were to immediately be imprisoned or even killed. Whenever a child turned approximately one year old, they were to be tested on their magic ability. Craig had seen them come to Sundorham, he remembered as a small child his parents waiting with fear as they tested his sister to see if she had magic ability, and the relief that she did not. He had also once seen a family in his village scream as their young child was ripped from them.

 

There were exceptions of course. If a person was of noble blood and only had a minor connection to magic, the Grand Wizard would have them be appointed as part of his administration. That meant this drunken man was one of them, one of the most powerful and highly appointed men in all of Kupa Keep.

 

“You were saying?”

 

Craig’s heart sank. He bit his lip hard, trying to stay focused.

 

“ _ We  _ escaped,” Craig forced himself to say, hot tears clouding his vision, “ _ We _ were there!”

 

The man’s eyebrows raised, his attention clearly more focused, almost sober. “Is that true, Clyde?” he asked.

 

Clyde’s eyes were also damp though he tried his best not to sob, his body low in his seat. He wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve, but the tears continued to fall. Still, he swallowed hard, trying to keep an even voice. “Yes, I was there on business. With my dad. But I...he was in the heart of the city. I was on the outskirts opposite of the side they were approaching. We ran away as soon as we saw it, while everyone else ran towards the city to help. That’s how we got away.”

 

“You’re how old now?”

 

“N-Neither of us know our exact ages, being c-commoners and all, b-but both about fourteen...sir,” Clyde sniffed, his voice getting more and more unsteady, yet trying so hard to prevent it from cracking.

 

“And you two ran together?” 

 

“Yes,” they both said in near unison.

 

“And you,” the man looked Craig in the face. His eyes were bloodshot, but they were attentive. “Are you a peasant? You should know we don’t allow peasants into the city gates without reason. Unless, you’re wanting  _ ‘work’ _ .”

 

“He’s not a peasant!” Clyde interjected, standing up from his chair, “He was traveling with my family. H-He’s not a merchant either though but--”

 

“Do you have any identification?” he cut off Clyde.

 

“No,” Craig answered. His shaking and anger had subsided. He didn’t know what he was feeling anymore. He felt cold.

 

He realized the feeling was numbness.

 

“If you don’t have identification or proof of not being a peasant, by Kupa Keep law you’re a peasant,” the man explained, a twinge of sympathy in his voice, “And if you don’t have a family to claim you, you’re probably gonna be sent to the  _ ‘workforce’ _ .”

 

Craig blinked, but continued looking down at the wood table. He knew what he meant. The royal family outlawed slavery, but the Grand Wizard had it in everything but name. It was exactly what the knight offered to send him to. Back then, his family would have gotten a lot of money, but now it would be for nothing.

 

Not that it mattered anymore.

 

He could see his sister, working in the inn that morning. Working and hoping she would meet someone who could take her far away. She wanted to adventure, to see the world. The little girl who played pretend that the scarecrow was the king. She was going to have a future, she said.

 

He had scoffed at her.

 

He blinked again. This time when he did, tears splashed out of his eyes, down his cheeks.

 

“Your friend is free to enter the city, though,” he said, his voice suddenly turning calm as if to comfort him.

 

His mother said she’d catch up to them. Yet, she gave him her necklace before he ran. If she really thought she’d be able to catch up, why would she give it to him? Did she want to be with her daughter as the fire consumed them?

 

“Wait no!” Clyde scrambled up as the two knights came forward and approached them. One grabbed Clyde by the arm, pulling him back.

 

His mother never had hope of finding their father again, Craig realized. She didn’t mention him meeting up with them.

 

They were gone.

 

Deep down, he already knew it the second he turned away from his mother and started running. He just wouldn’t allow himself to believe it.

 

“HE CAN READ!” Clyde screamed, “If he was a peasant he couldn’t read!”

 

Craig briefly snapped out of his head.

 

“Really?” the man asked. Craig could swear he saw his eyes light up.

 

“Yes,” Craig answered softly, his voice soulless. He slowly looked up.

 

The man rummaged through a satchel he carried and pulled out a scroll. He handed it towards Craig. “Read this.”

 

Craig’s hands were shaking, but he carefully opened it.

 

“By Decree of the Grand Wizard Eric Theodore Cartman, acting Head of State to Her Highness the Royal Princess Kenny,” Craig read carefully but fluently through his cracking voice, “In retaliation of the destruction of Kingdom lands Sundorham, Broken Arrow, and Heatherworth, the Kingdom of Kupa Keep declares absolute war on the High Elf Kingdom and seeks the death of the current reigning High King and Queen.”

 

Two other villages. Sundorham’s destruction wasn’t even an isolated incident. It was just one of many casualties. How many more would there be?

 

The man looked at him with big eyes and slowly took back the scroll. “Good enough for me,” he announced.

 

Craig didn’t even notice that Clyde was let go until he tightly hugged him, sobbing into his shoulder. Craig instinctively gave a light hug back. Clyde felt more relief than he did.

 

“Lord Marsh, with all due respect, literacy alone is not a sufficient factor in determining lineage,” a knight objected.

 

The man--Lord Marsh’s--face grew increasingly softer, his bloodshot eyes full of a look Craig couldn’t describe. “I said it’s enough,” he said, his voice in a very demanding tone.

 

“You prolly just feel bad for him because he kinda looks like your dead son,” the other knight sneered, “The Grand Wizard won’t like that.”

 

Without hesitating, the man with a quick wave of his hand ejected a bright light of energy that pushed the two knights back, both hitting the wall hard enough to knock them out. He walked over to them both and lightly prodded them with his feet, making sure they were out cold. Craig’s eyes grew wide again and instinctively gulped. If this man was a “weak” magic user, he could only imagine the power of someone like the Grand Wizard. No wonder the knights didn’t hold up against an army of magic elves.

 

“You haven’t told me your name,” he said to Craig, acting as though he hadn’t just used  _ magic  _ to easily blast away two knights. He reached for a large book that sat in front of him at the edge of the table. “We need it for the registry.”

 

Craig was already frozen prior, but the question didn’t help. He didn’t think up a fake identity like Clyde had hounded him to do and suddenly he couldn’t think. How  _ could _ he think? But now he was in the presence of a powerful magic user in Kupa Keep who had just saved him and had to come up with a new identity on the spot. His hand instinctively flew up to his chest, where his mother’s orange pendant was hidden beneath his muddy tunic. He felt the stone against his beating, painful chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

“Feldspar,” he said. “My name is Feldspar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a very long time to write. It's a lot of info and part of me thinks for pacing I probably should have made it multiple chapters, but wanted this whole "section" as part of a clear prologue. Also I'm sure you all notice clumsy, not so subtle exposition dumps. Please do let me know what you think, though!
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Subscriptions mean a lot to me!
> 
> Edit: I made a tumblr for this account! https://wintergrew.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life as a thief meant your loyalties were based entirely on convenience.
> 
>  
> 
> Craig felt as though that fact was a tired cliche, but it was still one that inevitably held true for him. Afterall, for the past six some odd he had lived in Kupa Keep City, he stole for his livelihood--his loyalties were naturally to himself and whomever hired him. Even then, a hire was only as good as a contract. Once it ended or the agreement ceased to be mutually beneficial, it becomes fair game all over again. Former partners would become enemies, former enemies would become clients. In some circumstance, that cycle happened multiple times with the same person. For that reason, relationships were best if kept strictly professional. Always be unwilling to trust, always preventing oneself from getting attached.
> 
>  
> 
> After all, thieves work best alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this story, particularly for the human Kupa Keep Kingdom, I tried to have historical accuracy to the Middle Ages in Europe. However, as it's a fantasy story in an alternate universe I obviously don't have to follow rules completely and change things for convenience. A main thing being how they talk, as I feel like South Park characters talking without the modern vernacular kind of feels wrong. I tried not to push it too far, though, to not take you out of the setting.
> 
> Also: Not going to give the story away, but if you're worried that this story doesn't feel super high fantasy and mostly just Middle Ages don't worry. As mentioned in the prologue Cartman likes to keep the monopoly on magic in the kingdom. Craig will obviously leave Kupa in the future, but the contrast is intentional.
> 
> Also all the characters age differences are to scale with the show (meaning: the fourth grade kids are all the same age, parents are all older, siblings are older/younger by the same number of years) except Cartman. Cartman is considerably older.

Life as a thief meant your loyalties were based entirely on convenience.

 

Craig felt as though that fact was a tired cliche, but it was still one that inevitably held true for him. Afterall, for the past six some odd he had lived in Kupa Keep City, he stole for his livelihood--his loyalties were naturally to himself and whomever hired him. Even then, a hire was only as good as a contract. Once it ended or the agreement ceased to be mutually beneficial, it becomes fair game all over again. Former partners would become enemies, former enemies would become clients. In some circumstance, that cycle happened multiple times with the same person. For that reason, relationships were best if kept strictly professional. Always be unwilling to trust, always preventing oneself from getting attached.

 

After all, thieves work best alone.

 

On this particular day, he was contracted for a rather simple mission: Steal back Lady Shelly Marsh’s prized pink pearl necklace. Shelly herself had asked, (or rather _demanded_ ,) he take her up on his offer. When she noticed it was gone, her scream might as well had been heard throughout every inch of the city, near instantly leading her to summon him.

 

She didn’t know _where_ it was or even _who_ stole it, so it wasn’t like a typical thieving mission of “steal this from that location”. However, she was a frequent client of Feldspar the Thief, often hiring him to find her missing things. She was also not above hiring him to steal things she wanted from others. She also happened to be one of his most wealthy clients. He could never turned her down, not even despite her unpleasant disposition and lack of information she would give him for missions.

 

To be fair, Craig never _required_ information regarding the who from or where the things he needed to steal were. Of course, that information was helpful, but he knew the odds and ends of the underworld in Kupa Keep City. He knew which people tended to steal certain types of things, all the local pawn shops, both public and underground, and was talented at getting the right people to tell him what he wanted.

 

The pearl necklace would be one of his easiest finds. Afterall, he was the one who was contracted to steal it in the first place.

 

There were times where Craig would run a scam--stealing valuables from nobles without their knowing or suspicion in hopes that his reputation would have them ask him steal it back from whatever terrible person they imagined stole it. At first the rewards he received were far too low, at rates where he would have been better off selling the stolen goods underground, but as his reputation grew, so did the reward money and clientele. He effectively stole from the rich and sold it back to them, all the while them believing he was their hero doing them a favor.

 

This time, however, was not one of those situations.

Shelly Marsh’s pearl necklace was extremely valuable. In fact, probably the most valuable thing he’s ever stolen. It made of rare pearls from the faraway Southern Sea, only able to be gotten from a small village that viewed the pearls as sacred. They didn’t usually allow their pearls to leave the ocean, making them very rare and expensive.  It was the sort of thing only royalty could afford. Which, it actually _was_ once the possession of the former Queen Carol--a rare gift from the Southern Kingdom for her husband’s coronation. It was said that Queen Carol gave it to the Marshes as a condolence for the death of their young son many years ago.

 

Of course, to Shelly, it was just something pretty and shiny that she liked to brag about owning. Naturally, as a hired thief with flighting loyalties, none of this mattered to Craig.

 

No, all he cared about was the task he was hired to do and the subsequent pay. He sat on the roof of a local bakery, eating one of their pastries. Of course, a pastry that he stole. To be fair, he did pay for things from that bakery sometimes, as it was one of his favorite places for food.

 

Growing up as a serf, his diet consisted of hard grains and vegetables, some meat when they were lucky. Before coming to the city, he never had sweets or sugar with the exception of honey on very rare occasions. His mother would describe cakes to him, but he never really imagined it. When he finally had one for the first time, he couldn’t help get emotional. His current pastry was a sweet bun with a nice bit of honey on it, one of his favorites. He probably should have picked something else, though, as it made his hands ridiciously sticky. He sighed.

 

The baker was a nice, older man with a large belly and friendly laugh. Not a very attractive man, but hard working enough. His new wife, however, was a beauty. Probably half his age, she looked like someone out of a grand painting. He expected her to be vain and mean, but she was alright enough. She cared a lot about her looks, sure, but she seemed to love her husband and not mind the simple life of a baker’s wife. The baker, however, didn’t see it that way. He felt so fortunate to have her, and felt that she deserved better. He loved being a baker, but once he got with her he wished that he was a nobleman just so that he could give her the world--a large tower with lavish furniture, beautiful dresses, an audience with the Princess.

 

He had saved up quite a bit of money to pay Craig to steal the necklace for her birthday.

 

As he finished the last few bites, he flicked off every crumb and wiped his hands on his cloak. It didn’t really help. He groaned lightly to himself.

 

He jumped up and grabbed the chimney of the building--a very thin smokestack. Carefully, he used it to allow himself to lean forward, to get a better look inside the bakery. Or specifically, the second floor bakery, where the baker and his wife lived. They were both working in the front storeshop, and he knew that he would be safe looking in. He made sure they were there. Not only to make sure their living space was clear, but also to make sure she wasn’t proudly wearing the pearl necklace. Still, he tried to be cautious.

 

He had to be careful, if his grip slipped, he would fall off the two story roof and onto the ground. Slowly, he leveraged himself to get a good angle. Finally, he was able to look into their bedroom, albeit from a high, indirect angle.

  
It wasn’t a grand bedroom by the city’s standards--bakers were merely peasants. Much more better off than serfs, but peasants nonetheless. They had a large bed with a mattress covered in simple, plain blankets. There was an ordinary wooden chair and dresser for the baker’s wife, probably older than either of them. Basic, everyday objects. Still, a free peasant houses were far grander than anything Craig would have ever dreamt of growing up.

 

To any serf, they were rich. They were privileged. They were free. By that standard, it made it so he didn’t feel as guilty stealing back the necklace.

 

His angle was too limited, he realized. Slowly, he let go of the chimney and started to slide down closer to the to the edge of the roof. Wood shingles were a wonder to Craig--he could only imagine how quickly he’d fall straight through his thachet house he once lived in.

 

Still no good, and he was ever closer to sliding off the roof.

 

He sighed, and stood back up to lean against the chimney. He should have brought rope. He _has_ rope back at his place. It was unprofessional of him to not think to bring some. Annoyed with himself, he took off his brown cloak and twisted it as tightly as possible. It wasn’t long enough to tie to the chimney. He picked at a shingle that was loose (but not _too_ loose) and wedged his cloak underneath, tying it around it.

 

It was a stupid, risky move, but he needed to look clearly inside the window and, hopefully, eventually get in it. Taking a deep breath, he gripped on the cloak and slowly allowed himself to hang off the side. The first leap of faith was the hardest, for it was the strength test to see if he wouldn’t fall and break his neck. He squeezed his eyes as he climbed down. It held.

 

With a sigh of relief, he opened his eyes and peered into the window, getting a clear view of the entirety of the bedroom. Most importantly, he had a view of the vanity on the far side of the room. Knowing her, she’d probably keep the necklace there if anywhere.

 

He couldn't see the necklace, though. It was messy, scattered with multiple objects of her and somewhat obstructed by a chair. He groaned again.

 

Shelly would want her necklace back soon. He couldn’t disappoint her.

 

Carefully, Craig brought his legs up and pressed them against the window. He had broken into many a windows before, even having a small bit of metal at the tip of his boots to better kick windows in,  but it was always risky. It always created a loud noise that could alert everyone around. Not to mention that going through glass, especially if he didn’t kick through it just right, usually left him cut up. His escape plan was also a little shaky.

 

Still, he figured it had to be on the vanity. He had one shot at this.

 

With a deep breath he bent his legs against the window. He gave himself a short count of three. When he reached “three”, he pushed off as hard as he could, using his cloak as a swing, and used the momentum to swing back through the window, breaking through it. The shattering _was_ louder than expected and he _could_ feel glass indented into his arms through his thin cloth, but he didn’t have time for that. The bakers, customers, or passerbys would hear this, giving him only a very limited amount of time.

 

Scrambling up from where he landed on the ground, he quickly ran as fast as he could to the vanity. He picked up the chair and pressed it against the bedroom door. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would buy him a few seconds, not to mention a warning when someone reached the door.

 

He quickly scanned the vanity and saw that he necklace wasn’t on the top of it He realized he hadn’t considered that maybe she concealed it under her gown, much like his mother did with her own necklace. He could hear a ruckus downstairs, and knew that he didn’t have time to dwell on this. He shuffled through the vanity, knocking over all the contents sitting upon it.

 

“What’s going on up there?!” he heard the baker yell from downstairs.

 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. It wasn’t there. Not on the top, not in any of the drawers.

 

He could hear footsteps heading upstairs. With or without the necklace, he’d need to get out quickly.

 

“Who’s up there?” the baker yelled again. His voice was even closer, signaling to Craig that he was on the move.

 

“Shit. _Shit_ ,” Craig huffed, scrambling. He quickly scanned the room, making sure it wasn’t on any other surface he could see in the bedroom.

 

Footsteps were closer. He needed to go. He grabbed the blanket, and wrapped it around him, knocking over a pillow.

 

_Clink._

 

Craig blinked. Slower than he should have moved, he reached over to the pillow. He reached his hand into the pillowcase, and felt around. Sure enough, he felt something hard and round. The necklace!

 

He the door move, the doorknob shake.

 

“OPEN UP IN THERE!” the voice yelled, banging on the door, unable to get past the obstruction. It wouldn’t take a man of that size long to beat the door open, however.

 

 _Time to go!_ Craig thought, quickly tying the blanket to his still in place cloak. He let it fall. It would still be a decent drop, but he wouldn’t die. As he swung it out, however, he realized his knot wasn’t tight enough. The blanket blew away with the breeze.

 

“ _SHIT!”_ Craig bit his mouth. Another loud bang hit the door. He had to leave _now._

 

As if moving by pure adrenaline, he grabbed his cloak that was still tied to the roof and stood on the broken glass covered windowsill. Holding on, he swung himself hard out of the window, just as the door was finally broken down.

 

* * *

 

 

“Feldspar, you look like shit,” Lady Shelly announced as she accepted his audience with her.

 

It was true, he _did_ look worse for wear. The fall had torn up his palms and kneecaps, even shredding his pants. He was extremely lucky he didn’t break any bones. He had had no time to dwell on this pain, however, as the baker could soon look out the window, the commotion leading to others looking for him. He had done what he had to and jumped into a garbage heap--probably not good for his open wounds. His brown cloak was also torn at the edges now, part of it ripping from the roof.

 

At least his _own_ necklace was still secure around his neck. That’s all that really mattered, anyway. Well, that and Lady Shelly’s, safe in his satchel.

 

“You’re welcome,” Craig glared at her as he handed her the pearl necklace. It had previously been covered in mud as well, but it was one thing he managed to clean off. She wouldn’t be happy with dirty pearls, of course.

 

With only an excited gasp, she quickly snatched the necklace from him and examined it.

 

Lady Shelly Marsh was not very ladylike. She was coarse and harsh. She always had messy hair and dresses less elegant and more practical than the other noble girls her age. She spoke in a rude, unladylike manner, with a lisp. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, to be herself.

 

“My necklace!” she squealed with joy, “I don’t know how a turd like yourself does it.”

 

Craig probably would have liked her had she not been such an insufferable bitch.

 

“I just want my money,” he announced.

 

“Excuse you,” she furrowed her eyebrows, “You shouldn’t _demand_ things from _nobility._ You don’t want _trouble_ with nobility now do you, turd? _”_ Her servants guarding the doorway straightened up, just in case she began to gave orders.

 

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, “You can say that, but next time you need something stolen you’d be pissed off if I wasn’t around. Which, I’m sure the Grand Wizard wouldn’t be happy to know how often that is.”

 

Shelly glared at him, her face turning bright red with anger. Craig didn’t move an inch, however. He knew her game.

 

“Give him his payment,” she ordered to one of her servants as she pushed passed them, leaving them behind.

 

“Yes, my lady,” one said, taking out an envelope labeled “Feldspar” from a satchel he had, handing it to him. Craig opened it up to see how much it was.

 

His eyes grew wide. He took back what he thought earlier. He would put up with Shelly as much as it took.

 

* * *

 

 

Having actual money, Craig bought a nice meat pie from a place he likes. It was run by a nice old lady, one he would never feel comfortable stealing from. She reminded him a lot of his own grandmother--his father’s mother who had died when he was very young. Even if she was a privileged businesswoman, she still felt too moral, too kind for him to ever doublecross.

 

“My boy, you should clean up!” she smiled as he entered her shop.

 

“I’m getting to it,” he smiled back, “But I’ve been kinda busy.”

 

“My dear, your legs are bleeding!” she gasped as she examined him closer. She jumped up and ran to the other side of her shop, grabbing a thin cloth. She dipped it and water and, without asking him, pressed it to his knee. It stung, making him flinch.

 

“You don’t need to do that,” he said through clenched teeth due to the stinging.

 

“Yes I do,” she insisted, “My cousin, when we were little, he scraped his foot and it got infected! We had to amputate it!”

 

“It’s not _that_ bad, ma’am.”

 

“Hush now, boy and listen to your elders,” she demanded in a stern, yet very motherly, voice. There was a twinkle in her eye and the corner of her mouth twitched upwards.

 

“I just wanted a piece of your pie, ma’am.”

 

“Of course!” she jumped up and ran to her plates. She cut him a piece far bigger than standard and wrapped it in paper. “On me,” she said.

 

“No,” Craig insisted, “I just got paid and I wanted to _buy_ a piece of your pie to celebrate.”

 

“But I--”

 

“No ma’am,” Craig reached into his satchel and grabbed a handful of coins, “This is for you.”

 

Her eyes grew wide, “My boy, how did you get this much money? I can’t--”

 

“I insist,” he said, taking the pie. She reached to stop him, but he politely excused himself and left the establishment.

 

He never ate in her actual shop. It felt weird to eat at a public eating place, even if she rarely had customers. Instead, he always opted to eat at the same old place in the castle garden. It was a boring “garden” to be honest, with only a handful of flowers and mostly boring old bushes. Princess Kenny tended to it when she was young, and it was said to be absolutely beautiful, but nowadays she was expected to spend her days in the court, tending to the Kingdom. Or, so it was said. Craig was half convinced that the Grand Wizard wanted her out of sight to further cement his own position as de facto leader.

 

Still, he didn’t think it would have mattered that much if Princess Kenny still tended to it. He much prefer the natural flowers of the farms out in the country. He still enjoyed it, though, as it was one of few places with any semblance of open space in the crowded, walled off city.

 

To be honest, the focus of the garden nowadays was less the plants and more the stone statues. The largest was in the center of the park, being that of the Grand Wizard himself. Of course, it looked very little like him, much thinner, muscular, and more handsome. The Wizard probably commissioned it himself and would have killed anyone who made it unflattering.

 

All the other statues, however, were of fallen knights. Of course, there wasn’t one for literally every single dead knight in Kupa, only those deemed significant. None of the knights who died protecting his village were worthy enough. Craig remembered how important they thought they were when they were alive. Now, he doubted anyone even remembered most of their names.

 

Still, despite hating knights, he found himself drawn to the statues. Perhaps it was the artistry. Perhaps it was the fact that the knights were stone--they couldn’t say or do anything obnoxious. He usually sat and ate his lunch under one in particular. He didn’t know why he was drawn to this particular statue. Yet, ever since he was 14, alone and lost in the big city, he felt as though it protected him. It almost gave him a paternal vibe. Perhaps he missed his father too much. The knight was quite tall like he was.

 

He sighed to himself again. He didn't like thinking about his family, even though he often did. The nightmares had lessened over the years, but they would never completely go away. He could always see them in his mind, asleep or awake. He could see his parents. He could see his sister. He could see his village.

 

He could hear their screams.

 

He took a bite of the pie. It was a rancid, horrible taste. It always was. Still, he always gladly ate it.

 

* * *

 

 

After taking a quick bath at the public bathhouse near the town square, Craig made his way back to his home in the evening. He rented the upper floor of an old man’s leather tanning business. The man was poor and alone, able to live in the back of the lower level, and offered up the upper floor for a very minimal fee. The rent was low for good reason--it was a small place that always smelled awful from the shop below. Luckily, there was an outdoor staircase in the back of the building leading up to the upper floor that was constructed so he wouldn’t need to go through the shop itself. He also preferred to not speak to the old man.

 

Tired, he climbed up the rickety stairs to his small living area. The door was locked, but it was dry rotting. It could be knocked down far easier than that of the baker’s bedroom door. He sighed as he slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.

 

The inside of the place was as drab and cheap looking as the outside. It had poor natural lighting from the inconveniently placed windows, making it always seem dark inside. The place was essentially a repurposed loft, making it one large room.

 

In one corner was a makeshift kitchen with a small fire pit and old wood table. The majority of the place, however, was littered in things. From clothing to goods to supplies--he wasn’t very neat. Against one wall he had his own mattress. It was stuffed with grass--a big upgrade from the prickly, uncomfortable straw mattress growing up.

 

And to be fair, even a slummy apartment in the city like this was _far_ better than anything he would have dreamt of in Sundorham. The walls kept out the cold in winter, the windows were real glass, and, even if the door could fall off at any minute, at least he didn’t have to patch up the roof on a regular basis.

 

He put his things down besides his bed and laid down. It still wasn’t that comfortable.

 

_“Do you think Princess Karen has to share her bed with her older siblings?” Tricia nudged Craig in the middle of the night with a loud whisper._

 

_“Of course not, they’re royalty,” Craig groaned, rolling over away from his little sister. She didn’t wake him up, but he did want to get sleep. There was important harvesting tomorrow and he hated trying to function without a full night’s rest. Now that Tricia was about five, however, all she wanted to do at night was talk._

 

 _“Why aren’t_ we _royalty?” she asked._

 

_“Because we’re not, obviously.”_

 

 _“I know but_ why, _” she pried, “I mean, what makes us different? What stops us from going and setting up a kingdom somewhere?”_

 

 _“Well first of all, it’s not that easy,” he rolled his eyes, “And second of all, we can’t_ leave _anyway. We’re serfs. We belong to the owners of the land.”_

 

 _“What do you mean we_ can’t _leave?” she gasped._

 

 _“We aren’t allowed to leave here,” he rubbed his tired eyes, annoyed, “We’re ‘_ indebted’ _to the people who own the land. It’s illegal to leave the village without permission, which they don’t like to do much cuz then we might leave forever.”_

 

_“That’s awful!” she sat up immediately._

 

_“Well, we get to live here,” he shrugged, “And we’re needed. If they didn’t have farmers tending to the land, everyone would starve. So they can’t just let us all run away to pursue dumb dreams of making a kingdom.”_

 

_“Well I’m going to,” Tricia announced, laying back in the bed, “I’m going to get out of here. No one can tell me what I’m going to do with my life.”_

 

Craig noticed that slight dampness had pooled in his eyes. He hated how years had passed and yet he couldn’t escape from his past. He hated the words of his little sister echoing in his ears, hearing her as clearly as he did back then. He hated seeing her in every strawberry blonde girl he saw, wondering what she’d look like now. He hated seeing families together happy, wondering what might have been. It pissed him off.

 

He quickly wiped his eyes rolled over on his side. His hand reached to his chest as he instinctively began to fiddle with the orange feldspar pendant around his neck.

 

He hated how he never knew if his mother ever reached Tricia.

 

“CRAIG!,” a voice boomed, interrupting his train of thought.

 

For years now, after only going by Feldspar, hearing his birth name was always uncomfortable. In fact, only one person ever did.

 

“Hey Clyde,” Craig answered apathetically as he rubbed his eyes and set up on the side of his bed.

 

“Man, you won’t believe what I managed to get from the shop,” Clyde announced, throwing his sack to the middle of their shared home.

 

Clyde was a merchant, given a job to assist a shop as soon as they first arrived in the city. It was a nice, high scale shop with all sorts of clothing, toys, and other goods for the rich and wealthy to waste their money on. From early on, Clyde would manage to snag things when the shopkeeper wasn’t looking for himself and Craig.

 

In fact, it was Clyde’s success in stealing from his own shop that initially gave Craig the idea of going into thievery.

 

“What is this shit?” Craig asked, picking up the sack and dumping the contents onto the floor. Cloth contents fell to the ground and he lightly kicked them to scatter them around, giving him a better view.

 

“Hey, don’t just throw that all on the ground,” Clyde complained, “Some of that’s really expensive.”

 

“Will it be missing?”

 

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Clyde announced, “There was this real creepy, filthy guy that the shop owner told me to look out for, thinking he might steal or something. He’s got us covered.”

 

“You’ll get caught one day,” Craig sat down to start looking at the objects, “You’re a shitty thief.”

 

“Well whatever, look and see what I got.”

 

“Hats?” Craig asked, picking up a couple that fell on the ground. A blue one and a green one.

 

“Yeah, we don’t have any hats,” Clyde announced, “I thought you might like that green one. It matches your eyes and all.”

 

“I like the blue one,” Craig announced, tossing the other back on the ground.

 

“But it matches you,” Clyde whined, “I got it _for_ you.”

 

“I like blue,” Craig said, fitting the hat onto his head. It was a dark blue, soft fabric hat that fit around his head, completely obscuring both ears and the back of his neck, with a cut in the front that went to the bottom of his forehead. The top of it had a yellow puffy ball that was soft to the touch. Craig looked at himself in the dull mirror they had in one end of the room. He thought it suited him.

 

“The green one would look better,” Clyde grumbled, picking it up. It was a green bycocket, a pointy hat, with a red feather. Craig had only ever seen the rich wear it and he knew it was more valuable than the one he chose. He also thought it looked incredibly stupid.

 

“I like the blue one,” Craig echoed his own blunt thoughts, “Noble fashion is stupid.”

 

“Whatever,” Clyde put the green hat aside on their table, “Why is the bottom of your cloak all ripped?”

 

“Oh right.”

 

“Oh right?”

 

“I had a mission for the Marsh girl today,” Craig walked back over to his own pile of things and sat down on his bed.

 

“The super scary one?”

 

“She’s literally the only Marsh heir,” Craig rolled his eyes.

 

“If you say that to Lord Marsh he’ll probably kill you,” Clyde laughed, sitting next to Craig on his bed.

 

“Whatever, stop interrupting,” Craig continued, “Anyway, she had me steal a necklace that was stolen from her. Which was easy enough because I was the one that had it stolen from her in the first place--”

 

“One of those days all that double crossing is going to catch up to you--”

 

“Shut up shitty thief,” Craig shoved him, “Anyway, it was easy enough except that I had to break into a second floor and I forgot to bring rope--”

 

“ _You_?” Clyde stood up and gave a fake, sarcastic gasp,  “The mighty thief Feldspar? Fucking up?”

 

“I’m not kidding Clyde,” Craig began to glare, “ _Anyway_ , I kinda had to use my cape instead, so it ripped. I also ended up having to hide in garbage which was bullshit, but I went to the bath house before I came home. Obviously.”

 

“Did you at least get paid well?”

 

“See for yourself,” Craig gave a rare smirk, tossing over his sack.

 

Clyde pulled open the string and looked into it.

 

“Holy shit dude. Forget everything I brought.”

 

It’s true, thieves work best alone. For the most part, Craig did. He didn’t make friends, he didn’t seek out a long term romantic partner. He worked alone, avoiding loyalties to all he came across.

 

Yet, as a criminal, he knew that rules were made to be broken. Exceptions always existed. Clyde was his exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos/Comments/Etc are greatly appreciated! So is constructive criticism. 
> 
> Also don't worry, more familiar characters will begin to appear.
> 
> Also feel free to follow my tumblr I just started up https://wintergrew.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t one for fun and excitement. Honestly, he preferred the simple, mundane thieving missions. But at least he was doing something. Plus, he liked being a thief. He really didn’t know how some people did it, living their lives entirely without work. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost pity the rich who never had to work a day in their life.
> 
> Though, of course, he did know better.
> 
> He also realized that having money to buy things wasn’t as exciting when you’re an expert at stealing them for free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite me writing this chapter the quickest, this was definitely the hardest for me to write. Still building some things up but getting closer now. Also some familiar faces--some are basically just cameos while others will prove important later down. I'll let you all try and guess who are which.
> 
> Not going to give away the exact point ahead of time, but when music is mentioned,this is what I imagined was playing. (The timestamped song, not the entire video) https://youtu.be/TKjadi_rvP0?t=5m34s

_ “You can’t do this to me!” Craig could hear a woman yell from the distance. _

 

_ “Lady McDaniels, I suggest you calm your temper.” _

 

_ “Don’t you understand that I lost  _ everything!?  _ You can’t just sit around here and do  _ nothing _!” Craig went towards the commotion to get a better look, pulling Clyde with him, dodging others who were crowding around. At the center was a very odd looking woman of about 40 or 50 following an odd fashion trend with short curly hair dyed green. There were certainly a lot of interesting types in Kupa Keep City, types of people he would have never thought existed until the past few weeks he had arrived. _

 

_ “My Lady, the war had cost us  _ all _ a great deal. Your village was not the only one destroyed.” _

 

_ “You can’t seriously be telling me that you’re not going to help me rebuild.” _

 

_ “There’s nothing  _ to  _ rebuild,” the exasperated knight complained, “Anyway, who are you planning to get to live there now anyway?” _

 

_ “I don’t believe for a second that nonsense that  _ none  _ of the peasants of Sundorham are alive. You can’t tell me not  _ one  _ of my workers are around.” _

 

_ Craig had always known there was a Lord and Lady of his village, the Lord having passed away some time ago. Unlike many villages where the Lord lived near the village itself, usually in a grand manor, the House of McDaniels chose to live in the city instead of the remote, dull land of Sundorham. Supposedly, a generation or two ago they once had a manor on the outskirts of the village but after they ranked high enough in favor, they managed to afford to run the land without needing to be there, fetching knights to put forth their orders and do all collections. _

 

_ In turn, Craig had never seen this lady before in his life. _

 

_ “My Lady, do you not understand--” _

 

_ “No,  _ you  _ don’t understand, knight! Sundorham is  _ my _ property, the people  _ belong _ to me! I want you to do everything in your power to find those people and return them to me at once!” _

 

_ Craig felt himself grow cold. _

 

_ “Come on Cra--Feldspar. We don’t need to listen to this,” Clyde grabbed his arm and nudged him away. _

 

_ “Have you ever even  _ seen _ that lady before?” Craig whispered, his voice more melancholy than he expected. _

 

_ “Yeah,” Clyde kept his head low, his voice melancholy, “When I was little. When my dad made the contract with her. She was a bitch then, and she’s a bitch now.” _

 

_ “Do you think she’d remember you?” Craig asked. _

 

_ “I don’t know,” Clyde bit his lip. Craig could feel him trembling slightly against him as they pushed past the crowd. _

 

_ “Then let’s keep her as far away from us as possible.” _

 

* * *

 

 

Despite getting more money than he usually gets in months by doing the single job from Lady Shelly, Craig continued to work. Sure, he didn’t need to. Yet for his entire life, ever since he was a small child, all he ever did was work. Work was what put a roof over his head, put food on the table.

 

He tried taking a few days off. He really did. He walked around the town square and tried to experience how the everyday person lives. He wore his new expensive hat out even if it was balanced out by his worn and cheaply made clothing. He visited the shops, watched children playing. He tried to do what he figured normal people in the city do on days off.

 

He determined immediately that it was incredibly boring.

 

He wasn’t one for fun and excitement. Honestly, he preferred the simple, mundane thieving missions. But at least he was  _ doing  _ something. Plus, he  _ liked  _ being a thief. He really didn’t know how some people did it, living their lives entirely without work. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost pity the rich who never had to work a day in their life.

 

Though, of course, he  _ did  _ know better.

 

He also realized that having money to buy things wasn’t as exciting when you’re an expert at stealing them for free.

“Feldspar, you’re here more often than usual,” the tavern wench raised her eyebrow as she handed Craig another beer after a long day of him attempting to do nothing. He didn’t know the tavern wench’s real name, but everyone called her Red because of her striking red hair. Her personality also matched. From what he did know about her, she was the daughter of the tavern’s owner and had dirt on  _ everyone _ . Craig always knew to be cautious around her.

 

“It’s none of your business,” he decided to say plainly, taking his drink from her.

 

“That bad?” Red smirked.

 

He frequented this particular tavern every once in a while as of all of them in the city, it most reminded him of the inn his town had. He preferred eating on his own and drinking with Clyde, but on occasion he felt in the mood to drink in public. 

 

The tavern had a slew of people of all walks of life. There were the poor who would drink away their sorrows of being poor. There were working people who would stop by after a long day at their job. It generally didn’t have the primmest of prim of the nobles, but some of the more grounded ones would occasionally come, especially if they had something to drink away their woes over.

 

“I’ll tell you why  _ I’m _ here,” a voice grumbled. Craig could tell by the speaker’s outfit and demeanor that he was one of those woeful nobles. Specifically, he wore a red cape and head sash of the clerics, complete with their insignia. Clerics were magical healers, a group the Wizard allowed to train in magic due to their usefulness on the battlefield, but only those of certain noble houses were permitted.

 

“Oh?” Red turned around and faced the other patron, immediately losing interest in Craig. The man was slouching in his chair, empty glasses around him. 

 

“That fucking...fatass piece of  _ shit! _ ” he grumbled, taking another swig of his drink. Craig’s interest was also piqued with that statement. He must mean the Grand Wizard.

 

“What of him, Token?” Red pressed, immediately handing him over a shot of whiskey. Craig knew it was her big tactic to get drunk people to talk. Though honestly, he would be lying if he said he didn’t do the same to get information out of people for his own missions.

 

The man--Token--continued, balling his fists, “For _ten years_ I’ve been an apprentice in magic and medicine to become a cleric. Since I was a _child_! My family has always had generations of the best clerics on the field, as useful as any knight.  But the Wizard has _always_ had it out for my family. Now he’s declared that I _can’t_ continue my study of medicine because he _‘thinks I have a natural talent for blacksmithing.’_ What does that even _mean_? He just wants to be the only fucking magic user in the kingdom, even if it means he’s fucking over everyone else. He doesn’t _care_ how many lives we save, he doesn’t _care_ about our feelings!”

 

Red sighed and took away some of his empty glasses. “That’s who he is. He has always been one of the grossest, most disgusting people in Zaron, but now that he  _ can _ do whatever he wants he  _ does _ . Who would have thought that the useless King Stewart actually had a purpose in reigning him back a bit? Still, not like there’s anything  _ we  _ can do about it.”

 

“You think all of Kupa is just gonna have to learned to deal with being screwed over by him forever?” Craig found himself asking on impulse. 

 

“Ha,” Token laughed sardonically, “He’s been pissing off the dwarves a lot lately, next thing he’ll get us in another pointless war. Maybe they’ll actually destroy this god awful city instead of those pointless serf villages.”

 

“What do you mean  _ pointless _ ?” Craig answered, “Hundreds of people were killed.  _ Children _ were killed.”   
  


“Yeah,” Token retorted, “Though honestly have you seen the living conditions? I almost feel like death is a  _ mercy  _ from that lifestyle.”

 

“ _ Mercy _ ? What would a  _ noble  _ like you know about something like that? You’re pissed off that you’re out of some dumb job yet think the murder of hundreds is  _ mercy _ ?” Craig stood up, his face growing hot with rage. He hated nobles, every last one of them. He hated the wealthy. He hated freemen.

 

“Feldspar!” Red glared at him, “You start anything, I’m kicking you out.”

 

Craig forced himself to unclench his fists. He couldn’t afford to cause trouble. He also mustn’t be too touchy about the destroyed villages, lest he gave himself away. Sure, a serf became a freeman once they escaped for over a year. Not to mention that Lady McDaniels died a couple years ago without an heir or rebuilt land, Sundorham still an untouched ruin. Still, he knew his true identity getting out would cause trouble, especially meaning that he lied to gain entry to the city.

 

“Whatever,” Craig sat back down.

 

“Anyway, Feldspar, to answer your question,” Red continued, “Do  _ you  _ have any plans or desire to do anything about the Grand Wizard?”

 

“Of course not,” he answered, slouching into his chair as he grumpily finished his drink.

 

So, with all that behind him, Craig quickly found himself once more taking up various jobs to do. He pickpocketed from passerby nobles and sold what he could to pawn shops. He had a job from a blacksmith to steal some charcoal from the Crown’s own supply, as coal was scarce and hard to come by on the normal market due to the Grand Wizard King having recently upset the Dwarf King from which it comes. He went out of his way to take more than he needed and in turn sold some to anyone else who offered to buy it. He also stole some apples and bread for some local street children in turn for them to mend his ripped pants.

 

Eventually, the baker came sobbing to him about the theft of their necklace that was oh so viciously stolen from their very own bedchambers. The great Feldspar the Thief, never wanting to disappoint clients, offered to steal for them a nice, but much less high profile, bit of jewelry for a discount fee. In reality, he didn’t even need to steal anything himself, simply taking one of the previously stolen things from Clyde’s own shop that they had stored away in a trunk. They had actually kept this particular necklace because the pawn shop rendered it useless.

 

He didn’t really feel that guilty for what he did to the baker. After all, they had no problem stealing a necklace of great value that was a gift to a family as a condolence for their dead child. The baker could have easily gone lower and picked any other nice thing to steal without going that greedy and careless.

 

To be fair, Feldspar the Thief  _ himself _ had no qualms about stealing it from Lady Shelly when he was first contracted to do so in the first place. Sure, he was almost certain she’d ask him to steal it back, but in the end it still  _ was  _ sort of a cruel thing to steal. Not that he really cared. Nor did he  _ really  _ think Lady Shelly cared about the necklace for the sentimental value.

 

Regardless, a mission was a mission.

 

“I don’t get you,” Clyde whined at their dinner table that night as Craig announced his early return to thieving. They had a beef stew and rye bread, something that was an occasional treat for them. “Man, I’d  _ love _ to get out of having to work.”

 

“Then quit. It’s not like I’m holding a knife to your throat.”

 

“Dude, c’mon,” Clyde groaned, shoving a mouthful of bread into his mouth, “You know it doesn’t work that way. I’m a merchant class, Kupa  _ expects _ me to work. Plus, even if we have the money, do you really think Kupa won’t get suspicious seeing us have money with both of us legally unemployed?”

 

“Then leave the city already,” Craig rolled his eyes, “That’s what you’ve been planning to do for years now.”

 

“You know I can’t yet.”

 

“Then when, Clyde?” Craig sighed, “You’ve been talking all about your dreams and plans since we were kids and Sundorham, but all you’ve been doing is continuing on as a shitty merchant and an even shittier thief.”

 

To be fair, Craig didn’t  _ really  _ want Clyde to leave the city. Craig wasn’t happy in the city, but he was comfortable for the time being. Clyde was all he had, his only friend, the last remnant he had of his childhood. The only person who knew who he really was. He would naturally follow his friend into the face of death. Even if he would never phrase it that bluntly or sentimentally to his face.

 

“Speaking of that…” Clyde put his bread back on his plate. His expression grew serious, a rare look for him.

 

“Yes?” Craig asked, his interest piqued.

 

“My boss is having me transferred,” Clyde said, his voice dead serious, “He wants me to work as the Grand Wizard’s personal merchant.”

 

“Is that a good thing?” Craig asked as he shoved more food in his mouth, “I mean he’s a huge fucking douchebag, but at least you’ll get paid more.”

 

“Yeah well, the reason he  _ needs  _ a merchant is because he had the last one...executed.”

 

“Well, maybe the last guy fucked up.”

 

“He’s had six merchants either killed or banished from space and time. In the past two years.”

 

“And you said ‘not yet’ about getting the fuck out  _ why _ ?” Craig raised an eyebrow.

 

“Because dude, he’s the  _ Grand Wizard _ ,” Clyde hit the table, “You can’t just quit on the Grand Wizard. But whatever. I think I can make the situation work.”

 

Craig poured himself some of the liquor at the table and quickly took a shot.

 

“Well, whatever. As long as you know what you’re doing, you know you’ll always have me at your side.”

 

* * *

 

 

Craig tried not to think about his conversation with Clyde the night before as he went out the next day. Clyde had to leave very early to be there for the Grand Wizard on time and Craig never liked waking up early, so he hadn’t seen him before he left.

 

He decided he didn’t want to deal with anyone on that day, and merely took to pick pocketing in the town square. It was one of the first things he learned how to do. It was actually pretty fun for him.

 

Of course he had to watch out. Thieving was obviously a risky job in any circumstance, but being caught taking off the jewelry of a noblewoman red handed would surely get him locked away in a dungeon. That is, if the powerful person didn’t immediately demand his execution.

 

Still, for all the years he had been thieving, never once had he been caught. He was the best for a reason. A skill that made people hire him, wanting his skills on their own side, not caring that they were hiring a criminal. No one ever once reported him.

 

The only person he really had to worry about was Dame Wendy Testaburger.

 

She wasn’t a  _ bad _ person by any means, if Craig was going to be honest with himself. She had a lot more integrity and soul than virtually any other knight he had ever met, especially for someone already born into a noble family. Despite her young age, she had managed to work herself up the ranks and lead a very elite, all-female group of knights. The Grand Wizard was said to absolutely despise her and her squadron, but he didn’t disband them. They were too valuable-- _ she _ was too valuable. Not to mention, the Princess adored her.

 

Beyond her strong combat and leadership abilities, in the current time of temporary peace she made it her goal “clean up” the city, if not kingdom as a whole. The Grand Wizard may not care about the crime infesting the city, but Dame Wendy Testaburger did. She made it her duty to make Kupa Keep a land that was perfectly safe for all people and she was going to do her best to do so with or without official support. She busted fractions of the black market, caught people thieving, stopped assaults, went after murderers.

Honestly, she  _ was _ a good thing for Kupa. She just wasn’t a good thing for _ Feldspar the Thief _ , someone who made a living off of the selfish, exploitable side of the people.

 

“Feldspar,” she called out, her voice as booming and confident as ever.

 

Craig groaned, squeezing his eyes shut with annoyance. He had a necklace in his hands, but he was able to casually fit it into a hidden pocket in his pants as he turned around.

 

“Yes, Dame Testaburger?” he answered her, sarcasm clear in his voice.

 

Dame Testaburger glared at him, her dark brown eyes cutting through him like a knife.

 

She always was suspicious of him, from her first days training to be a knight as a young teenager. She had noticed his odd ways of walking oddly close to the wealthy, as if to steal from them. She had noticed how he would visit shops, only to never buy anything. She had paid attention to his background as a passerby who happened by chance to come to the city as the war drew to a close.

 

It was after the sudden death of Lady McDaniels, however, that she frequently pestered him.

 

“You don’t look happy,” Craig mused, “You find out there’s more proof that I’m innocent?”

 

“No,” she frowned, “But that’s not why I’m here today.”

 

“I’m not stealing anything either, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he answered, “Clyde’s working for the Grand Wizard now. Not that I need  _ your  _ approval to do what I want, but now that he’s got an even better paying job I can afford to do what I want.”

 

“I wouldn’t understand why someone like him would take in a freeloader like you,” she said, “Unless, you know…”

 

Craig frowned. He knew  _ exactly  _ what she meant. He forced himself the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from giving her the spiteful response he wanted to. He knew it was widely believed that him and Clyde were lovers and honestly, it would probably help their image if he just said they were. But they weren’t. And that was one thing Craig refused to lie about.

 

Sure, Craig definitely pondered the idea of being with Clyde. Far more than he would like to admit. Okay, probably to an uncomfortable amount. Clyde wasn’t super attractive, but he wasn’t  _ hideous _ by any means. He was annoying at times, but he liked him a lot as a friend. He was there for him. He would probably  _ like _ being “with” Clyde. He definitely wasn’t  _ in love _ with him by any means nor did he lose any sleep over the idea. Yet it was an idea that always made his face turn bright red.

 

However, Clyde himself had a female lover of his own. One he was head over heels for.

 

When Clyde first brought her home, it hurt Craig far more than he expected it to. Not a stabbing pain he would shed tears over, but still somewhat uncomfortable in a way he didn’t plan. She was funny, outgoing, beautiful, and likable. They had been together for a few years now, Clyde even discussed bringing her with them when they finally left the city. A concept that always made him feel sick in a way he couldn’t describe. They were still going strong, but gradually even dense Clyde picked up on his discomfort and stopped bringing her around their place or mentioning her as much to him.

 

“Feldspar!” Dame Testaburger yelled. Craig hadn’t realized that he allowed himself to zone out thinking about this. He scowled at her to hide his embarrassment.

 

“Are you just going to keep standing there, wasting my time, or do you actually have something to say?” he managed.

 

“Yes, in fact. I’ve been called to summon you.”

 

“What?! I haven’t been doing anything wrong!”

 

“Unfortunately, I’m not here to get you in trouble,” she rolled her eyes and signaled for him to follow as she walked off, “It’s the House of Marsh that are summoning you.”

 

“Shelly?” he asked, hesitantly following her.

 

“ _ Lady _ Shelly,” she corrected him, “But no.”

 

“But why--”

 

“I don’t know,” she cut him off abruptly. Craig knew better than to speak further, and allowed her to guide him in silence.

 

As was with the highest of nobility of Kupa that so wished to reside in the city, the Marshes owned on of the many large towers connected to the entirety of the large castle and its walls that surrounded the city. Craig had heard that this was odd for a kingdom--most lords lived in manors in their own land, but Kupa allowed those of highest status to stay in the kingdom, in towers of the Castle. He always wondered if it was a political tactic for the royal family or the Grand Wizard to keep an eye on the nobility. 

 

Their tower’s entrance was made up by a large wooden double door, guarded by two knights in a very still, very statue-like stance. Without her needing to say a single word, they broke their stance and opened the door for Dame Testaburger with a bow.

 

“This way,” she called out as she entered.

 

One of the knights scoffed slightly as Craig entered. Now wasn’t the time for Craig to make a response to him, and kept his head high and expressionless as he walked passed him. He did, however, manage to swipe a silver knife hanging from the knight’s waist.

 

He hadn’t known it at the time, but the Marsh’s residence was the first place he had been to when he entered Sundorham. For that reason alone, the dark stone walls and winding staircases always felt more like a dungeon to him than a grand castle. Not all the intricate artwork, tapestries, and other expensive goods on decoration could change his mind.

 

Dame Testaburger was telling the truth in saying that he was not there for Lady Shelly, as she took him up flights of winding stairs above her low level chambers. He expected her to take him to the dark meeting room where he had been first taken all those years ago, but she didn’t. They went higher in the tower, where he had never been before.

 

As they continued to ascend the winding staircase, Craig could faintly hear music playing. Beautiful music, soft and gentle like the melodies his mother hummed to him and his sister. As it got louder, he guessed that it was the sound of a gentle lute.

 

As they reached the entrance of the room from which the sound was coming, he could see that the music was in fact played by a man on a lute. The musician was a brown haired man about his own age, playing away passionately on his instrument on a small stool in the corner. Against the wall were a pair of crutches and it was only then that Craig noticed that the man was disabled.

 

Upon their presence being known, the man looked up at him from the entryway. He gave Craig a small smile. His eyes, however, gave him a shrewd, mischievous look. It threw Craig aback, probably showing it on his face. The musician, without missing a single note on his lute, laughed silently under his breath. 

 

“Thank you Dame Testaburger,” a female voice said, “That will be all.”

 

Craig had been so enthralled with the music that he hadn’t even noticed that the Lord and Lady Marsh were in the room, along with their daughter who didn’t look pleased.

 

“Are you sure?” Dame Testaburger confirmed, looking skeptically at Craig.

 

“Yes I’m sure, Wendy,” Lady Sharon insisted with a smile. Though behind that smile, he could sense an urgency, he could tell that she was clearly wanting her to leave.

 

“Then I’ll be seeing you Lady Marsh,” she bowed, “Lord Marsh. Lady Shelly.”

 

“Seriously Wendy, can’t you tell my mom wants you to leave already?” Shelly spat. Craig couldn’t help but feel the edges of his mouth curl up in a smile. Testaburger merely swallowed her pride and left.

 

It was then that Craig allowed himself to get a better look at the room he was in. It was a grand room that appeared to be a dining room, with a large table in the center, decorated with a blue and red table cloth taking up much of the room. There were grand, intricate wooden chairs engraved with many designs and Lady Shelly--in a very unladylike fashion--was leaning back in one. Lord Marsh himself was sitting at the end of the table. The stranger continued to play away at his lute, uninterrupted.

 

“You must be wondering why we called you here, Feldspar,” Lady Sharon walked back to the table and took a seat. 

 

“Well yeah,” Craig answered, taking Lady Sharon’s actions an invitation to follow and take an empty seat at the table.

 

“Shelly, would  _ you _ like to tell him?” Lord Marsh asked, disapproval towards his daughter in his voice. He sounded surprisingly sober.

 

“Don’t  _ embarrass  _ me dad,” she huffed, hitting at the pink ruffles of her skirt.

 

“Shelly,” her mother warned sternly.

 

“I don’t really care who tells me,” Craig offered in a deadpan voice.

 

Lady Sharon’s expression became appalled, as if she were shocked that a mere peasant would have the gall to talk back to someone of her status. Still, after only a few moments, her expression faded and reverted back to her previous, welcoming one. Then  it grew deeply melancholy.

 

“As you may know,” she said slowly and hesitantly, looking down at her hands resting on the table. Her expression became terribly pained, but Craig didn’t really care. Instead, he noticed that her fingers covered in expensive rings that he would love to steal. Still, she took a deep breath and continued, “As you may know, we once had a son.”

 

“We still  _ have  _ a son, Sharon,” Lord Marsh interjected.

 

“Not  _ now _ Randy,” she hissed. She rubbed her hands through her short brown hair and brought herself the strength to continue, “Anyway, we  _ had  _ a son. He was, as any child would be...very important to us.”

 

“I’ve heard,” Craig interjected, trying to sound as respectful as possible, “He was killed by elves when he was a little boy.”

 

Craig’s words caused tears to instantly run down her face. She quickly used a napkin at the table to wipe her eyes. For a moment he felt empathetic towards her.

 

It was a story everyone within the city gates had heard, though he admittedly hadn’t heard it before he arrived. Yet once he stepped foot in the gates of the city, it was the gossip of the entire population,  sung by every bard. Even though it had happened years before it was second only to the death of the King and conflict over the throne. Arguably it was a topic even more long lasting than that of the devastating war they had just fought. To be fair, the war was something distant and far away, not something that affected the city people in the slightest.

 

Still, although there were variations of exactly what happened, the version Craig most often heard went like this. Apparently, many years ago, due to Lord Marsh’s status as one of the very few permitted magic users in Kupa, the King and Grand Wizard would send him away on various missions across the kingdom, even across all of Zaron, taking along his wife and two young children. Supposedly, the family had become a face of diplomacy--a noble family featuring a magic user traveling and discussing trade and war across the land. Whispers said that the fact that Lord Marsh was a magic user himself helped dispel rumors of the horrible treatment of those gifted with a magical connection in the Kingdom of Kupa Keep.

 

At one particular trip, the family was said to be on their way to make peace with a barbarian tribe Kupa had been having mild skirmishes with along their borders. However, rumor had it that the High Elf Kingdom wanted to stop any peace talks between Kupa and barbarians, fearing that an alliance would make their elf kingdom more vulnerable. Wanting to stop it, it was said that the High Elf Queen herself personally sent out some of her fiercest warriors to stop the Marsh’s convoy.

 

It was said that they were ambushed. That the elves attacked the poor, unarmed family while they were peacefully going along their path. Lord Randy was able to keep many of them off with his magic and get his family away, instantly guiding his family back towards Kupa.

 

Yet not before it was already too late for their youngest son.

 

Reports varied significantly depending on which bard was telling the story on how the poor boy died. Although Lord Marsh insisted that he was alive, no variation of the story involved the boy surviving. Some said his death was brutal and slow, others said it was quick and painless. Some reports said his body was buried, and that the Lord Marsh was in denial. Others claimed that he was left behind, leading to more of an excuse or opening for his insistence of his son’s survival.

 

Regardless, it left both of the young boy’s parents absolutely devastated.

 

Craig didn’t really care what the  _ real  _ story was. Nor did he want to hear any version of it from the Marsh family firsthand. He knew there were far worse tragedies out there and that people lost their children every day to disease and starvation. He didn’t understand the justification of so much focus on one single noble boy’s death forever ago.

 

Lady Marsh continued wiping away tears. Not that it really helped, Craig noted, as they continued to fall down her face.

 

“Stanley would have been about your age,” she tried to smile, “And your hair color. He might have looked like you”

 

“Oh  _ god _ mom, can you get on with it without getting all creepy on him?” Shelly protested. She clearly didn’t care about her mother’s woes.

 

To be fair, she did always have to deal with talk in the city about how the wrong Marsh child died.

 

“Anyway,” she placed the damp napkin back on the table, “When Stanley... _ died, _ the Queen gifted us one of her most valuable possessions.”

 

“Shelly’s pink pearls,” Craig nodded, “Everyone knows that.”

 

“Yes well we found out that our daughter  _ lost _ them,” Lord Marsh shot a look at his daughter.

 

“I got them back!” Shelly protested, crossing her arms.

 

“As we’ve heard it,” Lady Sharon interjected, “That’s all thanks to  _ you _ , Feldspar.”

 

“ _ Oh. That’s  _ why you’ve called me here.”

 

“I hear rumors that the boy Feldspar I let into the village a number of years ago had become a thief,” Lord Marsh continued, “You know you gotta be careful. Thieving isn’t tolerated around here.”

 

“Are you gonna tell on me, my Lord?”

 

“No!” Sharon interrupted, “Although we’re disappointed in our daughter for going behind our back and hiring a thief, we are greatly indebted to you. You brought back something absolutely invaluable to us.”

 

Lord Marsh tapped on the table twice. Immediately, through his magic, plates and gauntlets flew in through the room. Craig could guess were made of real silver and couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of noble-only food would be placed on them. He could smell meats and vegetables he could never dream of affording  _ or  _ stealing. Carefully, the magical gust lowered one of the platters directly in front of him.

 

Craig looked at his plate. An large piece of meat that he didn’t recognize sat in the middle, surrounded by clams, cheeses, and grapes. A glass of red wine was in a golden, gem covered gauntlet.

 

“Thief or not,” Lord Marsh announced, “We want you to know we appreciate you for what you’ve done. Going forward, regardless of what is to come, you have an ally in House Marsh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several things:
> 
> Yes, Clyde's girlfriend is Bebe. I am super biased--Clybe is arguably my second favorite South Park fic after Creek. Of course I had to shoehorn it in some contrived way.
> 
> Also, no I don't ship Cryde romantically. Which you'd think I would given how much I LOVE them as friends and make their friendship a central drive in this story. They're my ultimate brotp, and I love them as a brotp pretty much on equal levels that I love an otp. Though I gotta admit, I kind of just can't...see them working romantically? Perhaps it's because I am so biased on Creek and Crybe. That's just me though--If you ship them good on you.
> 
> Tweek will show up eventually. Sorry to disappoint people who are only here for Creek, but he doesn't show up right away. I have it tagged as "slow romance" / "slow burn" for a reason. 
> 
> ...Honestly, although I know this will probably alienate many potential readers, I guess I should say that this is more of "a story that has Creek" instead of a "Creek story". 
> 
> Lastly, I feel like this chapter was a bit disjointed. It was still greatly setup, which I'm not sure how much that might be boring you all. Please let me know your thoughts! Feel free to tell me if you see any errors! Constructive criticism always welcome <3 Thank you everyone who has left comments/kudos/etc already!!!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig didn’t want to be this upset at Clyde. He was his best--his only friend. He knew he was just stressed and worried about his job. The fact he knew so much about Craig was the reason he knew exactly what to say to piss him off or even hurt him.
> 
> Still, he didn’t understand Clyde sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm aware I said last chapter was the hardest one for me to write. Well now I take that back, this one was. The next one on should be considerably easier though. I have a pretty detailed outline for the entire story from each chapter, but even that doesn't stop writer's block a lot.
> 
> Also thank you SO much for all the support so far! Over 760 hits three chapters in! I know for some that might not seem like the biggest deal, but as someone still pretty new getting back into fanfics that is a big deal for me! Also thank you all for the nice comments.

“Where have you been?”

 

“Hey. You’re up late.”

 

“Well, you’re _ home late _ .”

 

“Shit dude, maybe because with  _ my _ job I live by my own schedule. You don’t.”

 

“Well regardless, usually you  _ tell me. _ ”

 

“Holy shit Clyde, I’m not your fucking spouse,” Craig threw his sack near his bed annoyedly. 

 

“I know, but I thought you wouldn’t ditch out on me--”

 

“I have my own fucking life, Clyde,” Craig groaned as he allowed himself to flop on his thin stuffed mattress.

 

Clyde was always like this whenever Craig came back to their place late. Always. Like a suspicious wife who thought her husband was out with some other woman. In turn, it always made  _ Craig _ feel like he was in the wrong. But he wasn’t. He was allowed to have his own life. It pissed him off. Still, he  _ knew  _ Clyde, he  _ knew  _ that he was a very touchy person, full of abandonment issues. Much like himself. Though, with Clyde, it materialized in the opposite fashion.

 

“I really was busy,” Craig added, instinctively reaching for his pendant to fiddle with. He found over the years, he always did it as a nervous habit.

 

“What, stealing?” Clyde rolled his eyes.

 

“ _ Actually _ , I had a dinner with the House of Marsh. I don’t like them, but because I saved that necklace that’s super important to them they said they owe me. You know, the one I got a ton of money from Shelly for getting? Well, apparently it was a big deal to the whole family, so they said I can  _ ‘consider them an ally now _ ’.”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Yeah,” Craig continued, “Sure, they’re all douchey nobles like all the rest, but I think they can be useful, I mean. Plus they served dinner and I honestly wished you could have come but--”

 

“So on my  _ first day _ with the Grand Wizard you disappear without telling me to go out and eat a feast with some nobles?”

 

Craig shot up and sat up straight on his bed, the pendant falling from his grip against his chest. “I forgot about that.”

 

“Whatever,” Clyde retorted. He sounded genuinely offended. He walked over to his own mattress on the other side of the room. Naturally, given how late it was, he had already took off all of his street clothes besides his long shirt to sleep in. He flopped down on his own bed.

 

“How was it?” Craig offered, not wanting to deal with an offended, upset Clyde.

 

“Awful,” he answered immediately.

 

An awkward silence grew between the two of them. Craig wasn’t sure if he should respond, or leave it at that for the night. Perhaps they were both too touchy, that it would be better for the two of them to sleep this off.

 

Craig sighed, deciding against his better judgement to speak anyway. “How was it awful?” he asked.

 

“How do you think?” Clyde sat up, the candlelight in their room illuminating his angry face, “Do you think working for the person who is to blame for the death of my family is a  _ fun _ ? The person who fucks over his entire fucking kingdom? Did you think I would  _ like _ walking around selling his self-serving trinkets of himself, hounding everyone to buy them? All I can do is wait for the day he gets mad at his low sale’s numbers and take it out on  _ me _ and--”

 

“I  _ told you _ that you should leave!”

 

“What the fuck do  _ you _ know, Craig?” Clyde had visible tears welling in his eyes from frustration, “You think just because you’re getting good at the underworld means you know  _ anything _ about how Zaron’s society works? You work for yourself, you don’t  _ get _ how society itself is run, how  _ actual  _ jobs work. You’re the one who thought you could just walk into the city as a serf and be treated like a freeman. You don’t know  _ anything _ about what it’s like to be me.”

 

“Well  _ sorry _ that I was born a glorified slave to some shitty piece of land!  _ Sorry _ that I don’t know what it’s like to have a steady job.  _ Sorry _ that I wasn’t born with a literal coin in my hand granting me absolute freedom to be wherever I want,” Craig stood up. He didn’t like losing his cool, especially at Clyde. The fact that he was getting pissed off at Clyde only made him more pissed.

 

“For all your hatred of freemen and anyone above you, you seem to forget that your own  _ mom  _ was a noblewoman.”

 

As if he lost control of his legs, he found himself marching over to Clyde.

 

“I don’t want you  _ ever _ to mention my mother or any of my family  _ ever again _ ,” Craig hissed venomously under his breath, his green eyes piercing Clyde’s brown like daggers.

 

“Whatever,” Clyde said again. He laid down on his bed and rolled facing the wall away from him.

 

Craig didn’t want to get angrier than he already was--he hated losing himself to emotions. He balled his fists and fought the urge to kick something.

 

Craig didn’t want to be this upset at Clyde. He was his best--his  _ only  _ friend. He knew he was just stressed and worried about his job. The fact he knew so much about Craig was the reason he knew exactly what to say to piss him off or even hurt him.

 

Slowly, Craig unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. He blew out the candles, took off his clothes down to his shirt and pants and went back to bed. He was exhausted, too exhausted to fight or be mad.

 

Still, he didn’t understand Clyde sometimes.

 

\---

 

Clyde was once again already gone before Craig even woke up the next morning. He did hear the door slam as he left, but immediately after he drifted back to sleep for another good hour or two. The fact that he slammed the door as he did meant he was probably still mad. A fact alone that made him not want to get up today. He was already over what happened yesterday, but he knew dealing with Clyde later would be a pain.

 

Somehow, dealing with Clyde’s girlfriend was even worse. It was actually her that made him get out of bed. A loud knock on the door in the late morning.

 

“Hey Feldspar, you in there?” she called in her immediately recognizable voice.

 

“No,” he said under his breath.

 

“Hey good, I wanna talk to you,” she called. When he didn’t immediately respond again, she just pounded on the door even louder.

 

He could tell she wasn’t going anywhere. With an annoyed yawn, he sat up and stretched himself, his shoulders cracking louder than he thought they probably should. With another annoyed, tired sigh he reached for his hat and shoved it on to cover his messy bedhead hair and slowly trudged his way to the door, opening it slowly to not have the light of day blind him.

 

Bebe Stevens was beautiful, objectively speaking. Too beautiful for someone like Clyde, Craig always thought. She had curly long golden hair that she primarily kept down sans a few intricate braids woven into it. Her father was a knight that had died in battle a number of years ago and due to his rank upon his death her family had a surplus amount of money, even if they couldn’t hold a candle to nobility. Still, she wore beautifully intricate gowns that were always stylish, even if not the most expensive and elite. Not that it mattered, she was highly regarded by the city. She was a popular socialite. She was educated. Beautiful.

 

She was absolutely out of Clyde’s league.

 

To be fair, he was pretty sure the reason they first got together was because she wanted someone to get her nice things. Specifically, nice things from the shop Clyde worked at. Yet somehow, for reasons Craig never understood, even after he left that shop and she no longer seemed to fish for things from his work, they seemed to make their relationship work and really grew to care for one another.

 

Craig probably never would get it. But then, he didn’t really  _ get _ romance in general.

 

“Feldspar, I’m worried about Clyde,” Bebe said, entering their small apartment before Craig even had the chance to invite her in. Not that he was planning on doing so. But if he  _ was _ planning on inviting her in, she sure did it herself before he had the chance to.

 

“He told you about his new job?” Craig yawned, following her inside. He flopped himself into a sitting position on his bed.

 

“I think he’s really worried,” she said, taking a seat at their table.

 

“Well he  _ should  _ be,” Craig scratched his head under his hat, “He’s working for the biggest sociopath in all of Zaron. I heard he fucking murdered all his previous merchants.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Bebe scolded, “Don’t be so flippant about his life.”

 

“Believe it or not, I care a lot about Clyde,” he rolled his eyes, “If I genuinely was worried he was going to get killed or whatever, I wouldn’t be this calm.”

 

“Well, shouldn’t you be worried?”

 

“Nah.”

 

“And why is that?”

 

“I dunno,” Craig pulled his hands down from his scalp and rubbed his tired eyes, “Someone who has been through what he has isn’t gonna die because he dropped a shitty trinket on the Grand Wizard’s foot. He might be a huge crybaby hypochondriac but...He’s also a survivor. I guess.”

 

“Clyde never talks about his past with me,” Bebe replied in a tone that seemed half pouty and half genuinely melancholy as she twirled one of her gold curls around her finger. He noticed a single tear run down her pale cheek.

 

“I know you probably think I’m bullshitting you,” he said, softening his tone slightly, “But it really is better that way.”

 

“People don’t get why I’m with him you know,” she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, “Especially Wendy. She always says I should leave him. She thinks he uses me and that he’s actually with  _ you-- _ ”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“ _ I  _ know that! But that’s not the point. The point is, I-I really care about him. But I’m tired of always worrying about him. I’m tired of knowing next to nothing about him!”

 

“You know I can’t tell you, Bebe.”

 

That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

 

Craig sighed. He didn’t like dealing with her in general, let alone her being this persistent and emotional. He wasn’t good with emotional people. He barely put up with Clyde.

 

“Though,” Craig let out, “If it makes you feel better. I won’t let anything happen to him. I promise.”

 

She didn’t look at him. She silently stood up and left, quietly shutting the door behind her.

 

As soon as he heard her footsteps fade, he face planted into his pillow and groaned into it.

 

\---

 

“I thought you said you were never coming back here again?” Red laughed, pouring some beer from the wooden keg.

 

“Just give me my beer,” Craig responded.

 

“So, it’s that you really need a drink?” she smiled mischievously, “Something happen?”

 

“I’ll leave,” Craig glared at her. The tavern was practically empty, especially given that it was still early morning.  _ Too  _ early for him to be drinking. But he didn’t care. He  _ did  _ want his drink.

 

“Let me guess,” Red placed a large beer stein in front of him, “It either has something to do with your roommate’s new job with the Grand Wizard  _ or _ your personal dealings with the House of Marsh. Or both.”

 

“How do you--?”

 

“I know everything,” she winked, turning her attention back to the bar.

 

“A-Actually, I w-was the one wh-who told her about th-th-that,” a voice said. Instinctively, Craig turned his head to see who it was.

 

It was the lute player from yesterday. He was sitting in a chair a few feet away from him, his lute in his lap. His face had the same mischievous look he flashed him yesterday as well.

 

“Jimmy!” Red scolded, with a bit of lighthearted humor in her voice, “If you spill my sources I won’t let you play here this evening.”

 

“Who are you?” Craig asked. He found himself studying the man closely. He wore the same outfit he had yesterday--a yellow tunic and green cape, complete with a grey hat with a tacky feather coming out of it. He also had the same crutches leaned against his table.

 

He knew from the moment he saw him something about him seemed up.

 

“I-I’m Valmer. Jimmy Va-Valmer,” he said in a tacky voice, “I-I’m a bard. And a musician. Though m-my biggest pa-pa-passion is comedy.” 

 

He seemed a lot stranger than Craig had predicted.

 

“I’m--”

 

“You’re F-Feldspar,” he cut him off, “I heard of you. N-Not to mention that I l-listened in on y-your entire m-meeting.”

 

“I wasn’t going to tell you my name,” Craig objected.

 

“L-Like I said, you didn’t need to.”

 

“So what’s your deal?” Craig asked, “You pretend to be some poor old musician to play nice tunes in the background when you’re actually eavesdropping on them?”

 

“That’s a fresh accusation coming from a thief,” Red called out from the other side of the bar.

 

Ignoring Red, Craig continued, “I haven’t seen you before. Are you from around here?”

 

“Nope,” he said, putting his lute on the table to reach for his drink, “I’m a b-bard. I travel.”

 

Craig really didn’t want to hear his entire life story.

 

“Jimmy has a really interesting life story,” Red smiled, leaning on the bar, “Why don’t you tell us, Jimmy?”

 

_ “Goddammit,”  _ Craig whispered under his breath.

 

“Y-Y-Ye-Yeah!” Jimmy smiled cockily, “R-Right before I c-c-came to K-Kupa, I was a-actually hanging out with a nice tribe of B-Barbarians.”

 

“Barbarians?” Craig responded, skeptically raising an eyebrow, “You’re saying you were with  _ nice _ Barbarians?”

 

“Y-Y-Yep.”

 

“Bullshit,” Craig turned away from him and back to the bar, taking another large gulp of his drink.

 

“Why would you say it’s bu-bu-bullshit?” Jimmy asked, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

 

“C’mon dude,” Craig rolled his eyes as he used his sleeve to wipe the beer off his upper lip, “Everyone knows that Barbarians are...well, fucking  _ barbaric _ . They don’t act  _ nice _ , they don’t  _ greet  _ outsiders. Their entire life is fighting and killing. They’re barely even  _ human _ .”

 

“S-Says who?” Jimmy smiled, “Have you ever  _ met _ one? Seen one?”

 

Craig grimaced. “Please Red, tell me  _ you _ don’t buy into this bullshit.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Red shrugged, “ _ I’ve _ never met one. Have  _ you  _ Feldspar?”

 

“Of course not because I’d probably be fucking  _ dead _ ,” Craig found his voice getting irritated, “This is fucking ridiculous. This isn’t even a discussion. It’s common fucking knowledge. I’m not going to argue it.”

 

“You’d find that a l-l-lot of what the K-Kingdom of Kupa K-Keep spouts as  _ ‘co-common fucking kno-knowledge’  _ isn’t true.”

 

“So what then?” Craig turned back to him, “You’re telling me that it’s all a lie? That the Barbarians are all super lovey dovey people who hold hands and sing songs?”

 

“N-Nope,” Jimmy casually stretched one of his arms, “They  _ are  _ a w-warrior society. Th-They  _ do  _ value battle. They  _ are _ c-cautious of outsiders and d-don’t take well to i-i-ntruders. But that doesn’t mean that once you get to kn-know them they can’t be p-perfectly nice people.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“E-Elves are pr-pr-probably the nicest though.”

 

“That’s it,” Craig announced as he stood up, pushing his near empty drink aside towards Red, “I’ve had enough.”

 

“C’mon Craig, I would th-think  _ you _ of all p-p-people would know better than to tr-trust Kupa,” Jimmy laughed.

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Get help,” Craig scoffed, dropping a handful of coins on his way out to cover his tab.

 

“Aw don’t be rude to my patrons,” Red tsked at him jokingly, scooping up his payment and wiping off the section of the bar where he had sat.

 

“He’s gonna get in trouble with the entirety of Kupa if he’s not fucking careful,” Craig waved his hand flippantly as went towards the exit, “Don’t get caught up in it, Red. Not for this asshole.”

 

It was still technically late morning, but after everything that had happened that day, Craig just wanted to go home. He had a couple contracts with people, but nothing he couldn’t do tomorrow. He knew some would be easy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do them, so he just walked straight to his home without looking back.

 

The tanner was busy, with various customers all around, meaning he wouldn’t have peace and quiet. The old man waved at him, probably wanting to start a conversation or at worst try and guilt him into helping him at his shop, but Craig pretended he didn’t notice him.

 

All he wanted to do was go to sleep in his cheap bed, not having to think about Clyde or Bebe or the Wizard or some delusional bard with fantasy stories. Preferably, the sleep would last for a year or two. Or maybe he could sleep so hard that he could go back in time. Back when life was more strenuous yet...happier. He found himself subconsciously fiddling with his pendant again.

 

He closed his eyes, but he could still see that bard’s cocky smile. He didn’t know  _ why  _ he got to him so much. He always knew not to trust bards. They always filled little Tricia’s head with fairy tales. About the Stick of Truth that didn’t exist, about happy cities in faraway lands where people wanted for nothing, about things Craig had resigned to accepting couldn’t possibly be real. Sure, there was magic in the world, but there wasn’t nothing  _ magical _ or exciting about the bleak, unfair, and uncaring world he lived in.

 

He knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep.

 

He groaned and rolled over to one side. His hat, which he hadn’t bothered to take off, slid down over his face so he annoyedly pulled it off and chucked it across the room, hitting the other side. He heard it knock something over, but frankly he wasn’t in the mood to care what it was.

 

Who was that bard anyway to claim that he knew anything about him? Was that part of his game? To claim to be all knowing to make people trust him, buy into him? Like some shitty fraudulent fortune teller’s cold reading? He didn’t-- _ couldn’t  _ know anything about Craig. He didn’t even know his real na--

 

Craig’s eyes grew wide as he sat back up on his bed. Suddenly, he felt his entire body grow cold, as if all his blood drained out of him.

 

The bard had called him  _ Craig _ .

 

“No he didn’t,” Craig audibly whispered to himself, “I’m remembering wrong.”

 

He called him Feldspar. Or he didn’t say his name at all. The human memory is a finicky thing, he was just getting paranoid about nothing. There was  _ no way _ he called him Craig. It would be impossible. There wasn’t a person alive besides Clyde who knew his real name, that even  _ could _ know his real name. It would be impossible for  _ Craig _ to prove his true identity even if he wanted to.

 

Maybe  _ he _ was the one who was finally losing it. He sighed, rubbing his eyes rougher than he should. With a deep breath, he laid back down. It was a struggle, but he forced himself to clear his mind and sleep the day away.

 

Craig awoke a few hours later to the sound of his door swinging open.

 

“What are you doing asleep?” Clyde asked. He swung his sack harshly towards his bed but missed, instead loudly hitting the wall besides it and spilling over. He still seemed pissed off. Great.

 

“Bad day,” Craig rubbed his eyes as he continued laying down.

 

“ _ You _ had a bad day?”

 

“Clyde, don’t even start,” Craig squeezed his eyes shut and rolled back over. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

 

“Don’t even start  _ what _ ?”

 

“ _ Goddammit  _ Clyde,” Craig gritted his teeth, sitting up, “Why are you  _ always _ like this? I--”

 

Craig gasped. It was only then he saw Clyde’s face clearly.

 

He had a swollen black eye and bruises around his cheek. His lip was torn, blood still dripping down from it. It was clear someone clearly had their way with his face.

 

Craig jumped up from his bed and guided Clyde to sit down on his bed. He then quickly fetched a wet rag to press against his bleeding lip.

 

“What the hell  _ happened _ to you?” Craig asked, pressing the rag against the cut. Clyde flinched like the weak cry baby he was.

 

“The Grand Wizard decided that he wanted to use me as combat practice for his new knight recruits. Fucking asshole.” His voice was clearly strained.

 

“You know, Bebe’s worried about you,” Craig found himself letting out, as if he had no self-control over his words, “She came by today. That was annoying.”

 

Clyde’s eyes grew even wetter than they had previously been.

 

“C’mon dude, don’t be such a crybaby,” Craig joked as he pressed the rag against his mouth once more. His joke didn’t help.

 

“I don’t know what I should do about her,” Clyde sighed, trying to quickly and nonchalantly wipe his eyes.

 

“You know I don’t care.”

 

“I know,” Clyde attempted to smile, but then grimaced in pain as it stressed his cut, “You’ve always been a heartless, conscienceless asshole.”

 

“That’s why you need me.”

 

“I am still pissed at you though.”

 

“That’s fine,” Craig got up and dropped the bloody rag into the dirty pile of clothes and clothing--far higher than it should be due to both of their unwillingness to do laundry. He then wandered to the kitchen section and quickly grabbed some dried fish they had saved and put them on two plates.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Eat,” Craig ordered, placing one plate on Clyde’s lap.

 

“Do you think the Wizard will have me executed?”

 

“No,” Craig said bluntly, dropping his own plate on their table and taking a seat.

 

“Are you sure?” Clyde asked again, hesitantly bringing a bite of the fish to his mouth.

 

“Yes,” Craig said through a full mouth, “But with this, we really  _ do  _ need to discuss our future plans to get out of the city. Out of Kupa. Soon.”

 

“Alright,” Clyde sighed.

 

\---

 

Craig decided the next morning that he really needed to get out of his slump and get back into the swing of things. He arose earlier than he normally did, although still after Clyde had already departed. He ate a decent breakfast, tried to organize his things he had flown everywhere on his side of their place, and even went to the public bathhouse to clean himself.

 

The bathhouse was a much better place to distract himself than the tavern, he decided. People liked to awkwardly keep to themselves and pretend no one else was there. He didn’t even have to deal with Red’s nagging. He especially didn’t have to worry about possibly running into that bard again.

 

To be fair, part of him  _ wanted _ to run into the bard again to get answers. Sure, a very, very, very small part of him that was vastly outweighed by the majority of him that hoped to never even have to  _ think  _ about him again.

 

He sighed. He really had been slacking lately from allowing himself to get distracted. He needed to steal a diamond for a merchant--an extremely easy task, and yet it had been days already. His reputation was going to be in ruins if he didn’t pick up the slack.

 

The tub he was in sure felt nice though. The water was actually warm for once, probably thanks to some rich person stopping by--they had to up their budget whenever actual money came. Most of the rich had their own tub in their giant houses, so it was a rare occurrence. He wished he could stay in it forever.

 

Still, all things must come to an end. That was a truth he had accepted long ago. With another sigh, he pulled himself out and got ready to actually start the day, starting with the diamond theft.

 

Stealing the diamond  _ was _ really simple. He was lucky, all he had to do with nonchalantly cut one from the studded scarf of some obsenely rich noblewoman that he noticed walk by. She wouldn’t even notice it was missing. He considered stealing the whole thing just to spite her, but quickly decided against it, and instead made his way to the jeweler’s shop.

 

“That took you longer than usual, Feldspar,” the jeweler commented as he handed him the diamond. He was an older, skinny man that was mostly bald with the exception of wispy white strands of hair. He was always unpleasant, but a loyal customer regardless.

 

“I am a busy man,” Craig lied, “There’s ways to get higher on my priority.”

 

“Or I’ll find someone else,” the jeweler retorted without missing a beat, analyzing the gem closely.

 

“Sure,” he shrugged, “But could they do a better job than me?”

 

The jeweler huffed in annoyance, putting down the diamond. It was a very large, very expensive diamond. Better than what he  _ needed _ to get him because of course, Feldspar the Thief never disappoints.

 

“Take your money and get out,” the jeweler tossed him the small bag containing his payment. Craig quickly looked inside. It was a very good amount, far better than he had even requested upon their agreement. Not as good as Lady Shelley’s payment, but definitely the sign of a happy customer, regardless of his demeanor. 

 

“I’ll be seeing you then,” Craig said as he pulled the bag shut and shoved it into his pocket.

 

“I said get out.”

 

As Craig left, he realized he didn’t know what to do next with his day. He knew he was slacking, but with a payment like that he really didn’t  _ need _ to do anything else. He cleaned up, he took care of himself, he finished a job he already had. He should be proud of himself for doing what he did. Or so he tried to tell himself, as he found himself wandering towards the city square.

 

He sighed, sitting down at the fountain in the middle of the square. He really didn’t like being in such a slump. This wasn’t like him. He also didn’t want to admit to himself that he was worried or that he was stressed out. That  _ especially  _ wasn’t like him. He pulled out a piece of bread he brought from home and idley began to eat it.

 

“Did you hear that the tavern wench is gonna be executed this afternoon?” Craig heard a townsman say to his friend, standing a few feet away from him. 

 

“You can’t be serious?” the other gasped. Craig’s interest was piqued as well, wrapping back up his bread and putting it away to get a better listen.

 

“I am. Apparently she got caught knowingly harboring a spy from the High Elf Kingdom.”

 

“Wait  _ what _ ?” Craig interrupted, not caring that he wasn’t a part of the two strangers’ conversation.

 

“Who are you?” one of the two asked, raising an eyebrow out of annoyance.

 

“What tavern are you talking about?” Craig continued, “Not Red’s right? I mean, the one with the girl with the bright red hair and overly intrusive personality?”

 

There were many taverns in the city. Ordinarily, his mind would never go to Red’s. Yet with that odd bard, he felt fear in his gut.

 

“Seriously who are you butting into our--”

 

“Yes, that one,” the first townsperson interrupted his friend, “Rebecca Skeeter.”

 

Craig’s stomach dropped. He felt sick.

 

“Do you have any idea who the spy was?” Craig asked frantically yet trying to keep his tone even. 

 

“I don’t know much, mainly that he was able to get away.”

 

“You heard  _ nothing _ ?” Craig found his voice getting louder than he wanted. He bit his lip to hold himself back.

 

“I dunno man, just some guy from out of town who was a spy.”

 

“Do better than that.”

 

“Uh,” the man thought, “Oh! Apparently he walked with crutches and--”

 

It  _ was _ him.

 

Without bothering to thank the townsperson or listen to him continue, Craig found himself instantly running straight to the tavern. He ran fast, almost as fast as he did that day he ran from his village with Clyde. His mind didn’t go back to that, however. All he could think about was the spy. The man at Red’s tavern was a  _ spy _ . The man who was at his meeting with the House of Marsh. The man who told him about how barbarians and elves were good people.

 

The man he could have sworn used his real name was a spy working for the High Elf Kingdom. 

 

Not to mention, even if he was annoyed by Red much of the time, deep down, he didn’t want her  _ executed _ . Not for some piece of shit bard asshole.

 

He stopped right in front of the tavern. Or, what  _ was  _ the tavern. It was all boarded up with a large number of armed and fully suited up knights surrounding the perimeters. Taverns got in trouble with the law all the time and executions in general were a pretty common occurrence, especially with a leader like the Grand Wizard. Yet this was different. It was as if they were guarding a building containing the legendary Stick of Truth his sister liked to go on about.

 

“What the hell is going on?” Craig asked one of the knights desperately. He didn’t know what he expected the guard to tell him. He didn’t even really know what he himself wanted to know. 

 

The guard didn’t respond.

 

“I  _ said _ what the hell is going on?”

 

Still no response. The guard only stood still, as if he were one of the knight statues in the garden. Craig balled his hands into fists.

 

“Feldspar!” a familiar female voice called from behind him, throwing him off guard. He turned away from the useless knight to see who it was.

 

Of course. It was Wendy Testaburger. She was not part of the perimeter, but naturally she  _ had _ to be there too.

 

“I hope you’re here to tell me what the fuck is going on,” Craig frowned at her.

 

“Feldspar, you really don’t want to get involved with this.” Craig could almost sense some compassion in her voice. She seemed  _ sad. _ It pissed him off.

 

“Like hell  _ you know _ what I want to get involved with.”

 

“Please, Feldspar,” she begged, “Red was my friend, too.”

 

“Then why are you standing around here?” Craig shoved her, not caring that he would probably get in huge trouble for assaulting a knight. She  _ always  _ pissed him off. Wendy was so loyal to this kingdom that she was going to just let her friend be executed. Knights were  _ always _ impersonal assholes who only cared about the law and/or their own glory.

 

Sure, he wasn’t mainly here out of caring about Red--he made it his life goal to not make attachments to people who weren’t Clyde. Yet, it still hurt a little more than he would like to admit. Not something he’d sob over, but something that sucked a lot. Wendy should be different.

 

“I’m not here for her,” she looked him in the eyes, “I’m here for  _ you. _ ”

 

Craig let go of her, taking a step back. The compassion in her face intensified. He suddenly noticed that her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.

 

“Me?” 

 

“It’s about Clyde,” she looked down. That wasn’t like her. She was always at attention, always following protocol. Craig’s heart started pounding.

 

“What about Clyde?” 

 

“Even though I hate you and think you’re a thieving probably-murderer who will only bring bad things to the kingdom, I still felt like I should tell you. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

 

“ _ What the fuck about Clyde? _ ” Craig demanded. His heart continued to pound hard and loud until he swore she and everyone else in close proximity could hear it beating.

 

“The Grand Wizard declared him banished from all of space and time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, anyway. I think this is the weakest chapter, though I think it was necessary to kind of end the setup? Like I said, I did have a lot of writers block and some of it does feel oddly paced/rushed to me. Constructive criticism on that is welcome! That said, from here on things will start to get more real and hopefully more interesting.
> 
> Comments, kudos, subs, etc are all really appreciated!
> 
> Edit: Unrelated and I'm sure absolutely no one would have noticed, but in this story Red is "Rebecca Skeeter" because I like the canon-backed hc that she's Skeeter's daughter. In other things I write she's "Rebecca Tucker" and Craig's cousin under the assumption that Skeeter is Skeeter Tucker. Here, however, I didn't make them cousins and didn't want to raise false flags with a "Rebecca Tucker". SO since Skeeter has no confirmed full name...for this story I went under the assumption Skeeter is his last name (like Cartman).


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are we going to do?” Bebe sobbed to him. 
> 
> Craig sat back down on the bed, trying to clear his head. His thoughts felt like they were going a million miles a minute. He closed his eyes to try and focus.
> 
> Through the mess of everything, two things were abundantly clear to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry if you're subscribed and got two notifs--posted this incorrectly at first and had to repost!)
> 
> First of all, thank you for nearly 1000 hits! I'm super grateful for all the nice comments!
> 
> Finally getting Princess Kenny in this chapter! As I said before, Kenny is Princess Kenny because SoT Kenny is Princess Kenny. No other reason. You can interpret things however you want.
> 
> Also warning to I guess certain people: I don't ever write Cartman as a good person. I think he's a good character, in that he's funny and SUPPOSED to be terrible in the context of South Park. However, I think he's what he's supposed to be...a terrible person. I know some people don't like him written as a bad guy all the time in fics, but to me, given that this is the dude that fed someone their parents, tried to start the fourth reich, and...everything he did even recently in TFBW...well. Also keep in mind for ALL the characters that while I try to keep them true to their South Park characters, I am thinking of these characters heavily as the self-insert LARP characters the kids created. It's a bit of a subtle difference to me.
> 
> Lastly, I think this is kinda an intense chapter. Warning for that.

_“So you’re from that new family, huh?” Craig asked._

 

_“Um, I guess so,” the boy said. He was young. Probably about Craig’s own age but stockier and, healthier compared to his own malnourished self. The boy’s brown hair was messy, but it was shiny. He wore a red shirt, unlike the usual dull brown sack cloth that was all that could be afforded by most of the people of Sundorham._

 

_“You don’t seem like the rest of us,” he commented, “I don’t get why someone like you join our village.”_

 

_The boy looked confused, scared even. Too much so to answer._

 

 _“I mean if you don’t want to talk and fit in that’s_ your _problem, new kid,” Craig shrugged and turned back around to his own place._

 

_“I’m Clyde,” the boy suddenly called out, trying to stop Craig from leaving._

 

 _“I didn’t ask_ who _you were,” Craig turned around, “I asked_ why _you’re here.”_

 

 _“Why are_ you _here?” the boy questioned back._

 

_“I was born here, obviously,” Craig raised an eyebrow, amazed by how seemingly empty headed the other boy was. “Most of us are born here and don’t have a choice. Not that it’s any of your business, but my mom’s an exception. She came here because she liked my dad or whatever. She had a reason. What’s yours?”_

 

_“Um,” the boy thought, “I guess because my mom died. My dad wanted us to have a safe, steady life or something.”_

 

_“That’s dumb.”_

 

_“How’s it dumb?” Clyde scrunched his face offendedly, “Who are you to say I don’t belong here?”_

 

 _“Chill out,” Craig rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say you don’t_ belong _here.”_

 

_“You said our reasons were dumb.”_

 

_“That’s different,” Craig shrugged._

 

_“You seem like you don’t like me being here,” Clyde frowned._

 

_“Nah, it’s a small village, hating you would just cause trouble,” Craig explained, “And there aren’t really other boys our age, so I should probably get to know you. You should learn to not offended by everything I say when I’m just trying to ask you stuff.”_

 

_The other boy’s face lit up, “Does that mean you wanna be friends?”_

 

_“I haven’t decided yet. If you don’t annoy me too much, maybe.”_

 

_“Oh thank god!” the boy’s face instantly became flooded with tears of joy, “I was afraid I was going to be all alone here.”_

 

 _“I said_ maybe _.”_

 

_\---_

 

“You _promised_!” the crying girl grabbed his cloak where it wrapped around his neck. Her grip was so tight that it choked him.

 

“Bebe, you know that I--”

 

“Feldspar, don’t even give me that _shit,_ ” she rushed forward, grip still tight on him pushing him until he fell backwards. Her grip tight, she fell with him and pinned him down as she landed on top of him.

 

“Bebe,” Craig let out weakly, using his elbows to try and support himself on the dirt road of the alleyway.  

 

“You _promised_ you’d protect him,” she sobbed, tears running flowing from her blue eyes. Her face, usually pale and blemishless was bright red from all the sobbing.

 

“Bebe, how do you think I _feel_ right now?” Craig found himself yelling, “You think I didn’t want to protect Clyde? You think this isn’t--” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

 

“How do you think _I_ feel?” she yelled back, pulling him up by his cloak, putting a lot of strain on his neck, “ _Two_ people I care about. _Gone._ ”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Craig couldn’t remember the last time he apologized for anything. But that didn’t matter to him. A wave of guilt and melancholy flooded him.

 

Bebe loosened her grip. She continued to sob into his chest.

 

“I’m sorry, Bebe,” he felt his voice crack,  “I’m so, so, so sorry.”

 

He sat still as he let her sob into his chest for a good amount of time. He wasn’t sure how long. It felt as if all time had stopped anyway.

 

Craig didn’t return to his apartment until it was already dark. He didn’t really want to go back. He hoped a lightning bolt would strike the place down so he would never even be _able_ to go back. At least if it was dark, he wouldn’t have to look at it as closely.

 

Still, he did. He walked up the same unstable stairs and opened the same shoddy door. It was a full moon, so it was far more lit than he had hoped. He wouldn’t be able to get any sleep with his mind like this. He sighed, reaching for a candle for him to light on the middle table. In a small one-room place like this, a single candle illuminated it all too well. Clyde’s side of the room was still just as he had left it the previous morning. One of his spare shirts was draped over his bed. It was red. Ever since they were children, he always liked wearing red.

 

Both of them were naturally messy people. Craig was the one who usually ended up cleaning, but it wasn’t in his nature to do so.

 

He wasn’t sure if cleaning up the mess Clyde had made would make him feel better or worse. Should he go through Clyde’s things? Should he leave them just as he left them? Clyde didn’t really like Craig going through his things, after all. To be fair, Craig felt the same about the reverse.

 

Craig decided against it, at least for now. He instead decided to sit at their table. Not to eat anything. He didn’t think he could physically hold down food at the moment.

 

It was as he sat down that he noticed a speck of green poking out from under Clyde’s blanket that had been half tossed on the floor. Craig stood up and picked it up. It was the stupid hat Clyde had gotten for him that he rejected.

 

Craig took off his own blue hat and tried it on, looking in their dull mirror. It looked absolutely ridiculous on him. It made the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. As dumb as the hat was, he decided he would keep it. Never to wear it, but hold onto it.

 

Craig did a back flop onto his bed.

 

“What are we gonna do Clyde?” Craig asked.

 

The room remained silent.

 

“C’mon dude, I know you can’t _still_ be pissed at me,” Craig continued, “We gotta figure this shit out.”

 

_“I dunno, I’ve been kinda always looking to you for the plans.”_

 

“Yeah well, what if it doesn’t work out?” Craig’s voice unexpectedly cracked.

 

_“Wait, are you saying you’re doubting your own plan?”_

 

“What if you were right?” Craig squeezed his eyes shut, feeling wetness leak out of his eyelids, “What if I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing?”

 

_“Craig, you’re like the only person in this world I trust completely. More than Bebe, more than anyone. We’re in this together.”_

 

Craig’s chest hurt, and his pounding chest made it feel like he had just run a marathon. It hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn’t breathe.

 

“I can’t do this Clyde.”

 

Craig had never felt so alone. It was a crushing feeling. Like the negative space of the entire world was pushing down on him from all sides.

 

\---

 

“Feldspar, open up!” was what Craig awoke to the next morning. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep. His head hurt as if he were hungover, but he hadn’t drinken anything the night before.

 

“Bebe?” he asked with an involuntary yawn.

 

“Hurry the hell up already!” she pounded the door harder. He sat up, rubbing his eyes worn out eyes. His body felt stiff from his unnatural sleeping position so he stretched himself before he stood up.

 

He tried to intentionally divert his gaze away from Clyde’s side of the room. His gaze drifted to it for a split second, but he quickly snapped his head away and bit his lip.

 

He started to open the door slowly but Bebe swung it open and pushed right past him, making her way into his home. She had a forcefulness that completely disregarded him, like she had a plan.

 

Not only that, but Craig noticed that she was dressed differently than normal. She wore a red dress, which wasn’t odd as red was her favorite color like Clyde, but it was much more simple and less intricate than what she normally wore. Yet despite that, the materials looked heavier, like they were far more expensive. Her long golden hair that she usually had down with frilly, intricate braids and headbands was now tied back in a single simple, yet elegant braided bun.

 

She was clearly dressed for formalities. Dressed to impress someone.

 

“We don’t have time,” she announced, “Get ready.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Craig asked, ruffling his fingers through his messy bedhead.

 

“We’re going to talk to the princess.”

 

“The _princess?_ ” Craig asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“We’re going to ask her to pardon Red and Clyde.”

 

“Isn’t Red already--” Craig found himself trailing off. Red’s execution was scheduled for yesterday afternoon. It made his heart sink more than he thought it would.

 

“I don’t know,” Bebe bit her lip, “But you’d think if they did, she’d likely have a public execution. But there hasn’t been one. So maybe…”

 

“Wait, hold up a second,” Craig brought himself back to reality as he grabbed his hat that fell on the floor as he slept, “Even if she’s not, you can’t just get an audience with Princess Kenny like nothing.”

 

“Yes I can.”

 

“No you can’t,” Craig scoffed as he fitted the hat on his head. He didn’t really care that the unwashed floor dirtied his hat.

 

“Yes I _can,_ ” she frowned, sitting at the table defiantly.

 

“Bebe, pretending she’s not royalty for a moment, have you seen the princess around the city lately?” he sat back down on his bed, “Has _anyone_ seen her? Especially since the Grand Wizard pretty much forced Princess Karen to get into some strategical marriage on the other side of Zaron.”

 

“She loves Karen,” Bebe looked down at her hands solemnly, “And she _was_ far too young to get married. But the Wizard--”

 

“See that’s the thing!” Craig found himself standing back up, “The _Wizard_ is the one with all the power. He keeps Princess Kenny all locked away and out of sight so _he_ can be the one to be king. Why do you think despite her age she’s _still_ only a princess?”  


“As a kid Princess Kenny always said she preferred the sound of that to Quee--”

 

“Bebe, she’s a grown ass woman now.”

 

“Listen, I know,” Bebe bit her lip again and furrowed her pretty brows, “But Kenny was a good friend of mine. The Princess, Wendy, Red, and I were all friends growing up and...”

 

“Then why doesn’t _Wendy_ do something? She is some high and mighty knight.”

 

“You know she doesn’t have that power or else she would,” Bebe glared at him for the insinuation, “But the Crown Princess under Kupa Kingdom laws does.  Kenny _must_ still remember all our times with Red, she wouldn’t just sit back and let the Wizard...Anyway, she must value _me_ enough to help with Clyde--”

 

“Okay, say she does want to help us,” Craig walked over to Bebe, “Say she _can_. How do you plan on getting an audience with her under the Grand Wizard’s nose? He’s the only one who sees her.”

 

“That’s not true,” Bebe smiled, “There’s one other person who we can get to her through.”

 

“Okay, who?”

 

“Her paladin.”

 

\---

 

“I can’t believe you’re going to see the princess of all of Kupa wearing that,” Bebe groaned at him as they headed towards the castle.

 

“This is what I always wear,” Craig looked down at his outfit. He wore his normal mousey brown tunic shirt, brown cape that had the edges ripped from his altercation at the baker’s, and recently stitched up black pants. He had his utility strap around his torso and the weapon he stole from the knight attached to his hip, just in case.

 

“That’s what I mean,” Bebe rolled her eyes. Craig scoffed. He even had new boots and red gloves that weren’t cheap--if he actually paid for them, that is. Which he didn’t.

 

“Does it really matter? I don’t think the princess will refuse to help us out because she doesn’t like my outfit.”

 

“Well then, you’ve clearly never met her.”

 

“Sounds like I’ll hate her already.”

 

“I actually think you’ll like her,” Bebe trailed off, “She’s a very... _nontraditional_ princess.”

 

“Like Shelly Marsh?”  


“Hell no,” Bebe laughed, a surprising sound coming from someone so solemn that day, “She’s very. Well, free spirited I guess. She didn’t care about any of the rules of being a lady or a princess, but not like Shelly. Kenny wanted to dance around, drink with the men, and flirt with all of them too. She likes frilly princess things like taking care of her garden and her pet unicorn, but she also doesn’t mind getting dirty and cussing like a sailor. Behind her pretty looks, she’s actually really scrappy. Not to mention probably the best archer in the kingdom.”

 

Craig blinked. All the imagery of the Princess Kenny was of a poised, proper, and extremely beautiful young lady.

 

“People aren’t always how they appear, I guess.”

 

Bebe looked back at Craig and gave another judgeful look at his clothes. “Seriously, you _do_ always appear like you don’t give a fuck. Like what’s this ugly cheap rock around your neck.” She examined him closely, reaching for his pendant, “You should really get something better--”

 

“Don’t touch that!” Craig smacked her hand away with more force than intended.

 

“Wow geez,” she retracted her hand with a glare, “I didn’t know it was important to you.”

 

“It’s none of your business.”

 

Bebe sighed and continued walking in silence. The mood fell once more, grimly reminding Craig of the reason they were on this trek in the first place.

 

“I’m glad you’re willing to stick your neck out to try and help Clyde,” he finally let out, “I guess I underestimated you.”

 

“I love him, you know.”

 

It was then they reached the base of the castle. Technically, the entirety of the city was surrounded by walls and, by extension, the castle itself. However, at the far end of the city laid the distinct castle structure made up of the tallest, widest, and most intricate towers. It was where the Royal Family lived. Once upon a time the family was large and expansive. Now, of course, Princess Kenny was the only member.

 

Naturally, the Grand Wizard took up most of it. It was here that Clyde had to work the few days he lasted with him. It was here that Clyde would have been banished.

 

“Who are you?” a knight guarding the entrance asked as they approached the front gate.

 

“I am Bebe of House Stevens and this is my friend Feldspar,” Bebe curtseyed. She kicked Craig under her dress to give him the hint to bow. He didn’t want to, but he complied.

 

“State your purpose,” the knight demanded. Craig could tell that the tall, foreboding knight was a total no-nonsense woman. Not the type who would be of much help.

 

“We wish to speak to the Paladin Leopold Stotch,” Bebe said in an uncharacteristically diplomatic voice.

 

“For what purpose?” the knight eyed her.

 

“Personal business,” Bebe explained.

 

“He’s busy,” she responded curtly. Craig opened his mouth to object, but Bebe elbowed him.

 

“Well, he might be upset if he knew you didn’t tell him that _I_ came by,” Bebe cut Craig off, “The _princess_ might be upset to. We go _wayy_ back you see.”

 

The knight scowled, but she slowly turned towards the entrance. “Wait here,” she ordered.

 

“Is there something I should expect?” Craig whispered to Bebe as she disappeared.

 

“Nah, not with Butters,” Bebe let out a strange grunt-laugh.

 

“Who is he exactly?” he asked. He didn’t really care about his personal details, but given that two lives were on the line, he figured he should have a basic background.

 

“He’s a Paladin. Basically, like, Princess Kenny’s personal knight and bodyguard. He’s been that since they were little kids. He’s not really some strong, brave knight who you’d expect for the title of Paladin or whatever, but Princess Kenny likes him and thinks he’s cute, so he’s always stayed. Not to mention he’s very easily manipulable, something  that puts him in favor of the Grand Wizard.”

 

“Couldn’t that mean he would side with whatever the Wizard said?”

 

“Nah, he’s pretty universally manipulable. Not just with the Wizard.”

 

Craig didn’t know how to take that information, instead silently waiting for the few minutes before the knight returned.

 

“Oh gosh, hello Bebe!” the paladin emerged with the knight, “It’s been an awful long time since I’ve seen you around here. Why don’t--Why don’t you all come in?”

 

“Hey Butters,” Bebe said in a tone Craig couldn’t read. She grabbed Craig by the arm and followed him into the entryway of the castle.

 

The paladin-- _Butters_ \--was a relatively short, meek looking man with puffy yellow hair. He had a teal and green outfit on that looked to be a uniform, but was one Craig had never seen before. He could only guess that given what Bebe said about him being one of only two people who had regular contact with the princess that he must be important. Yet as he tripped over his words with Bebe as the two caught up, he found that hard to imagine.

 

The interior of the castle was far grander than any of the noble towers he had been in. It was decorated with grand art from all over the world, portraits of the McCormick dynasty for hundreds of years, with an alarming amount of art featuring the Grand Wizard.

 

But Craig didn’t have time to care about those things. He was there for a reason.

 

“We need to speak to your princess. Immediately,” Craig blurted out. Bebe glared at him.

 

“Oh gosh,” Butters looked alarmed, “I’m not sure that’s a real good idea.”

 

“What do you mean?” Craig asked, “We need to see her. It’s important.”

 

“Well, you see, the princess hasn’t really been seeing _anyone_ lately--”

 

“Not even me?” Bebe asked, “We _were_ such good friends, you know.”

 

“Oh hamburgers,” Butters stopped in his track, his face extremely full of concern, “I really shouldn’t be saying anything. I-I’ll get in a whole mess of trouble.”

 

“Butters, are you being serious right now?” Bebe looked him dead in the eye, clearly completely done with his attitude, “One of my best fucking friends and the love of my life have been fucked over by the Grand Wizard and the only person who can help us out is my good, dear friend Princess Kenny.”

 

“Oh boy,” Butters bit his lip.

 

“Butters, I’m not playing,” Bebe’s voice cracked, and tears started forming around her eyes, “This is our only hope. _Their_ only hope. You can’t...You _have_ to take us to her.”

 

Butters stood still for a moment, nervously fondling his cape. He thought long and hard silently before he spoke.

 

“Alright fine,” Butters finally said in the boldest tone of voice Craig had heard him use, “But don’t come crying to me if you, um, don’t like what happens.”

 

The paladin’s warning words sent a deep concern through the pit of Craig’s stomach.

 

“Thank you,” Bebe smiled slightly, wiping her tears with her wrist. Craig didn’t get how she seemed so relieved.

 

Something about this didn’t feel right to him.

 

“Okay, then uh, follow me,” Butters said, signaling for the two to follow him down a new direction. He guided them not towards the grand staircase in the center of the grand, lavishly decorated ballroom that presumably led to the designated royal family’s personal chambers. No, instead Butters led them down a hallway that was far less lit or decorated. He opened a regular wooden door containing a dark spiral staircase going up a tower.

 

“This way,” Butters announced, about to ascend the stairs.

 

“Why is Princess Kenny up there?” Bebe asked puzzled.

 

“We’re going to her lady’s chambers.”

 

“That’s not where her bedroom is!” Bebe stepped back, “Her room was always the big one above the ballroom. She liked it because it had a view of both the garden and the stables.”

 

“Yes, well, you see, His Excellency the Grand Wizard decided that it would be, uh, better if she took a room up in this tower,” Butters stammered.

 

“But this is where servants always lived!” Bebe argued, her face growing in shock.

 

“Yes, well the Wizard--”

 

“Butters, cut the shit,” Bebe cut him off.

 

“God, who _cares_? I really don’t give a shit what sorta princessy room she lives in, I just wanna see her,” Craig rolled his eyes. Bebe groaned but conceded.

 

“Right! So this way,” Butters nervously scratched his neck as he trekked up the stairs.

 

Bebe looked more worried (as Craig thought she should) but she followed the paladin, carefully lifting her skirt to not trip on the dusty, worn stairs. Craig sighed and followed behind her, careful to not step on her skirt and trip both of them.

 

The stairs seemed to go on forever. Unlike the towers owned by the nobles such as the Marshes, there were no rooms in between, only a narrow cylinder of a tower seemingly completely covered by infinite stairs.

 

“Are we almost there?” Craig called out to Butters, who was quite a few meters above him. In his defense, it was due to being behind Bebe who was taking her good time with her flowy dress.

 

“Just a little more,” he responded.

 

After what felt like forever, eventually the three reached a plain, wooden door a the top of the tower. Butters cleared his throat and knocked three times.

 

“Uh, Princess. It’s me...Butters,” he called, nervousness in his voice, “Bebe and her friend are here to see you.”

 

There was no response. Butters audibly gulped and slowly pushed open the door anyway.

 

When the door opened revealing the room, Craig was instantly overwhelmed. It was not at all the classy and elegant sort of royal, princess room he expected. It was also not some dark dungeon sort of place he also feared the Wizard locked her up in. Instead, it looked like the princess’s unicorn puked rainbows and pink shit all over it.

 

It was very pink and purple. The walls, the ceiling, everything. It was covered in tacky artwork with rainbows and unicorns. The bed was in the center, big and covered in blankets in various shades of pink, littered with stuffed animals. The whole _room_ was littered with dolls and stuffed animals.

 

The princess was sitting on the floor, on top of a purple rug, facing away from them. Her long golden hair was tied into two ponytails on either side, with a silky white ribbon intricately braided into each, and a solid gold tiara placed on top of her head. Her gown was white and purple, made of what looked like the most expensive silk in Zaron.

 

“Princess Kenny!” Bebe called for her friend excitedly, “It’s been so long!”

 

The princess continued to sit still without turning towards them. The oddness of it gave Craig chills.

 

“Kenny?” Bebe asked again, walking towards her sitting friend, more cautiously. Slowly, she reached out one of her arms to touch her on the shoulder.

 

Butters stepped forward, “I wouldn’t if I were--”

 

As soon as Bebe’s hand landed on the princess’s shoulder, her head snapped around, looking  directly at Bebe.

 

Craig was taken aback, he probably would have knocked himself over, had a wall not been directly behind him. This was wrong. This was very, very wrong. His jaw dropped, forcing himself to instantly close it.

 

The princess’s skin was _green._ Her eyes, which were always famous for being the most delicate and beautiful shade of baby blue were completely grayed over and bloodshot. This wasn’t normal. Something was physically very wrong with her.

 

Her expression was not of one excited to see her long lost friend.

 

Immediately, Princess Kenny stood up, her expression twisted and inhuman. She bared her teeth, unnaturally sharp and looked as though she was about to lunge for Bebe’s throat!

 

“NO!” Butters screamed, ramming himself into the princess, knocking her down. The princess’s long and flowy skirt, not at all fitting of her current demeanor, flew up as the two fell to the ground.

 

“C’mon Princess, don’t do this,” Butters pleaded, “You remember Bebe, don’t you? She’s your-- _our_ friend!”

 

For some reason, Princess Kenny’s expression was softer towards Butters. Clearly, Butters had no fear of her, knowing she wouldn’t hurt him. Still, she didn’t answer him.

 

“You remember Red, right Princess?” Butters asked, “That’s why Bebe’s here. She wants you to save Red.”

 

She still didn’t respond. She only looked at Butters blankly.

 

“They’re gonna kill Red, Kenny,” Butters told her in a gentle yet serious voice, “Only you can pardon her.”

 

“This is a waste of time. This isn’t going to go anywhere,” Craig announced. He hadn’t expected the to princess have turned into some green goblin or zombie or something. Because honestly, given his luck lately, the ridiculousness of it hadn’t surprised him as much as it should have.

 

Slowly he looked to Bebe. Tears were streaming down her face.

 

“Who did this to you?” she asked through her sobs.

 

“We think someone tried to poison her,” Butters said, still on top of the princess, “Or cursed her. But she didn’t die. Instead she turned into…”

 

“Did you get whoever did it?” Craig asked.

 

“No,” Butters let his head fall, “We have no leads. She won’t talk. I’m the only person she doesn’t outwardly try to attack.”

 

“Even the Wizard?” he added. He noticed the word “wizard” triggered something in the princess, causing her to shake violently and resist against Butters.

 

“She tries to attack the Wiz-- _him_ more than anyone. Sometimes the closest she gets to words I could swear she’s trying to say his name. Whenever he so much as enters the palace, even though she’s far away, she loses it. He ordered us to lock her away up here.”

 

“Well then it’s obvious then,” Craig said in as casual of a voice as he could, sitting down on the princess’s bed, despite feeling as if a rock had been dropped into his stomach, “It explains how both the Queen and King died of mysterious illnesses suddenly only a couple years apart. It explains why he convinced Princess Kenny to completely banish Prince Kevin despite her being perfectly content with him living in the castle the rest of his days. It explains why he demanded Princess Karen get married to a prince in the opposite side of Zaron when she was only 14 years old. The Wizard attempted to murder Princess Kenny but for whatever reason she’s unable to die. He wants to get rid of the entire House of McCormick so that he can claim the throne for himself.”

 

Princess Kenny didn’t shake violently like she had before. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at Craig, almost as if knowingly. It was enough to confirm the theory to him. Bebe continued to sob, her head turned away from the princess.

 

“So she won’t be able to help us with Clyde or Red,” Craig added, his blood turning ice cold. Butters opened his mouth to speak but then simply closed it, hanging his head.

 

“I’m sorry, Feldspar, this was a mistake,” Bebe swallowed, wiping her eyes with her wrists.

 

“It’s fine, I--”

 

“SHH!” Butters suddenly jerked. The princess’s anger also raised.

 

“What?” Craig stood up.

 

“Oh boy, oh geez,” Butters bit his lip anxiously.

 

“ _What?!”_ Craig demanded.

 

“Oh boy, the Wizard is coming here.”

 

“How do you know that?” Bebe asked.

 

Butters pointed to his headband with the red stone in the middle. It was now brightly aglow, getting brighter and brighter every moment. Likewise, the princess got more and more manic.

 

“It’s enchanted,” he explained, “The Wizard had it set so it glows the closer he is to me so I know to not embarrass him when he sees me. And oh boy is he going to be _furious_ when he finds out I brought you two here!”

 

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here!” Craig straightened up, reaching for Bebe.

 

“He’s already coming up the stairs.”

 

“Then the window!” Craig was good at scaling buildings like this. Sure, Bebe would be a struggle, but it was worth a try.

 

“Even if you did manage to scale it, people would see you.”

 

“Then we’ll fucking hide!” Craig grabbed Bebe by the arm and looked around the room. He was a good hider from his line of work. Under the bed were already trunks and all sorts of things that wouldn’t fit them and they both wouldn’t fit in the dresser with all of the princess’s floofy dresses. Eventually, he notice an especially large pile of dolls and stuffed animals against one corner, and pulled Bebe towards it, carefully fully covering both of them with it. There were small cracks in between that allowed the two to see out.

 

The princess made more and more grunts, resisting against Butters. She was very forceful, but it was clear she made an effort not to hurt him.

 

Finally he arrived.

 

Craig already knew he was absolutely nothing like the narcissistic statues and artwork made of him. Unlike artistic depictions that had him buff and tall, he was a very overweight man of probably average height, if he were to be generous. Craig wondered if his tall pointy blue hat was to compensate for that. He didn’t carry himself in a dignified way that all other royals did, but instead had big, heavy steps. Two fully armored knights stood behind him, blocking the door.

 

“Butters, what the hell are you doing? I asked you to guard the south gate.”

 

“Well uh, sir, I--”

 

“Butters, why are you so lame and never listen to me? Stand up!”

 

The princess was violently shaking under Butters, trying to go for the Wizard. Butters gulped, “Um, sir, I don’t know if that’s a good ide--”

 

“Butters, goddammit, I said _stand_!”

 

Gradually, Butters let go of Princess Kenny, sliding off of her. Carefully, he stood up.

 

Immediately after, the princess lunged teeth first at the Wizard. Without missing a beat, he raised the brown staff he had been carrying and shot out a white light, immediately freezing her in her place.

 

“I heard Bebe and some random other nobody tried to see you today,” the Wizard lowered his staff and safely walked right past the incapacitated princess, “What did they want?”

 

“Um, well they wanted to see me and--”

 

“I swear to god Butters, you better not fucking lie to me or so help me.”

 

“Uhh, well, they wanted to see Princess Kenny, sir,” Butters nervously scratched his neck.

 

“And what for?”

 

“Uhh, I sent them away, obviously. I told them she couldn’t be bothered.”

 

“Butters, seriously? I didn’t ask that. I asked _why_ they wanted to see her,” the Wizard facepalmed in frustration.

 

“Oh uh...um,” Butters stammered, “Uh, I think something about Red. _I mean_ , Rebecca Skeeter. Umm, they were hoping she would help her or something…I think.”

 

The Wizard smiled, signalining to his knights. “You mean her?”

 

The knights turned, with a third, previously unseen knight behind them pushing forth a familiar red-haired girl, dropping to the ground a little before Princess Kenny.

 

Red was still wearing her usual tavern dress, but it was dirty and tattered now. Her red hair was also messy, clearly having not been washed or brushed for days. Her mouth was gagged and her hands were tied behind her back. Most frighteningly, her face and all other visible skin were littered with bruises and cuts. She had been tortured. Bebe cupped her hands over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. Although the princess was incapable of moving under the Wizard’s spell, Craig could almost swear he could see her twitching.

 

Yet despite what she had clearly been through, Red sat herself up and kept her chin up high, her eyes glaring defiantly. The Wizard took off her gag. Red immediately spat at him, causing him to hit her in the head with his staff. She hit the floor hard, but immediately forced herself back up into the sitting position. It was clear she hadn’t been broken.

 

“You’ve always been a bitch, Red,” the Wizard scowled, wiping the spit off of his burgundy cloak with irritation. Red’s nose was bleeding from what looked like a very painful blow, but she still managed to smile defiantly.

 

“How’s the zombie life treating you,” Red asked the incapacitated princess. The Wizard hit her again.

 

“W-Why did you do this to her?” Butters asked. Craig looked over to him. He wasn’t a tall man, but he somehow looked even shorter. Meak, weak, unable to know what he should do, what he _could_ do. Craig just hoped that his supposed easily manipulated demeanor wouldn’t cause him to betray Bebe and him.

 

“Because she’s a fucking traitor, Butters. She was helping the fucking _elves_. She has been all along, and even helped get a fucking spy through our city walls.” Red closed her eyes saying nothing, keeping her expression blank and unreadable.

 

“W-Why did you bring her _here_?” Butters continued, forcing himself to not look at the tattered girl and instead at the Wizard, “You know this’ll upset Princess Ke--”

 

“This lying traitor was _her friend_ . Why was Kenny friends with some lowly tavern bitch anyway? There’s some really fucking shady shit going on in my kingdom lately. The elves are fucking sneaky assholes _already_ stole _my_ fucking stick and now want to compromise _my_ kingdom with their shitty spies. I need to fucking know how deep this goes.”

 

Craig felt his stomach fall. The Wizard referred to a “stick”.

 

“You know the Princess can’t--”

 

“I don’t believe for one fucking minute that she knows nothing. I really think she’s trying to be sneaky and just pretending to be some mindless zombie. I want my fucking Stick of Truth back!”

 

Craig was going to be sick.

 

Red’s gaze looked sad, as she stared at the princess. Craig didn’t like to be overly empathetic towards other people’s problems, as it only complicated things. Yet, he could only imagine how he would feel if Clyde had this done to him. He found himself inhaling deeply.

 

“This has nothing to do with her,” Red spoke for the first time, still looking at the princess. Her voice was dry and cracked from dehydration, but not at all weak.

 

“Why should I believe anything you say, traitor? Of course you would want to defend her.”

 

“I’m sorry the Wizard did this to you Princess,” Red said, ignoring the Wizard’s words, “I’m sorry we let him to you. I wish we- _I_ could have protected you.”

 

“That’s it, you don’t get to live another minute, traitor,” the Wizard announced, pointing his staff to her head.

 

Red took a deep breath, accepting this. She slowly looked around the room, the last place she knew she was going to see.

 

Her eyes stopped just where Craig and Bebe were hiding. Craig was barely visible through the cracks, but her eyes widened with shock as hers met his. Then they narrowed, and she gave a knowing smile to him.

 

It was the exact same knowing look Jimmy had given to him back at the Marsh’s place.

 

A moment later, the Wizard cast another bright light from his staff. It pierced right through her.

 

Craig had to practically dive to cup Bebe’s mouth with his hands to prevent her from screaming. It was a miracle that he was able to do this without knocking down their hiding space, revealing them. He could feel his hands getting soaked by tears running down her face.

 

After Red fell to the floor limply, the Wizard angrily signaled his three knights and Butters to leave, the five descending back down the tower. As soon as the door slammed behind them, Princess Kenny’s spell broke, limply falling to the floor.  Bebe instantly pushed off all the stuffed toys and ran to her fallen friend. Craig wished she hadn’t done that, in case the others could still hear, but he followed out.

 

The Princess was asleep, he noticed. Probably some charm. It made Craig realize that the Wizard could have done that all along for his safety. The sick asshole wanted to make sure the princess was awake and watching everything while he was there. He _wanted_ her to see her friend Red die.

 

He knew the Wizard was a sick man, but he never knew just how far it went.

 

“Rebecca, _please_ ,” Bebe sobbed to her, cupping her friend’s head in her arms. Of course her pleas would be for not. There was no way the Wizard's blow didn't kill her instantly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Craig told her. This was the second instance he was giving an apology in the past couple days.

 

Red wasn’t his priority when he set out today. She wasn’t exactly a friend, he often considered her a nuisance. She always put her nose in other people’s business, which made him irritated. She always had to know everything. She always had to speak about the outside world, of happy faraway kingdoms with magic and wonder, bullshit that Craig didn’t want to hear. Of course she would fall victim to the ways of some out of town spy. She probably _did_ know he was one and _did_ knowingly take him in.. She probably thought it was some cool adventure, like she would probably be a part of something, even if it meant siding with the elves.

 

Still, he didn’t want her to die. He didn’t hate her. Despite everything, despite his contrarian outlook, he always went back to her tavern. He always struck up a conversation with her. He never wanted to admit to himself why, but deep down he always knew.

 

She reminded him so much of his sister that it hurt.

 

“What are we going to do?” Bebe sobbed to him.

 

Craig sat back down on the bed, trying to clear his head. His thoughts felt like they were going a million miles a minute. He closed his eyes to try and focus.

 

Through the mess of everything, two things were abundantly clear to him.

 

First, he wouldn’t be surprised if part of the reason why the Wizard killed Red in this way was because he knew they wanted Princess Kenny to pardon her. Red and her were friends. It was intentionally cruel, crueler than a public execution. Even if she wasn’t the way she was now, she never could have helped them.

 

The Wizard was not the type of person who would help free Clyde.

 

Second, he nauseously recalled the Wizard talking about a stick that was stolen. He didn’t want to believe that it was real. He had spent his entire life in denial that it could be, brushing it off as some silly fairytale. Official stories always said it was fake.

 

Yet he couldn’t imagine a reason for the Wizard to say such a thing unless it was.

 

This meant that the Elven Kingdom that brutally murdered all of his family, his entire town, had the most powerful object in all of Zaron.

 

He wasn’t sure which of those two facts sickened him more.

 

There was very little he could do about the faraway High Elf Kingdom having the Stick of Truth. As much as it sickened him, he needed to push that out of his priority list. He mentally crossed that out.

 

Clyde had to be his priority. He should think through his options with that.

 

He wasn’t going to be able to save Clyde. At least not with the Wizard as he was. The Princess couldn’t be of any help even if she was cured. She would only be able to be of help if the Wizard was gone.

 

He opened his eyes. That could be it. It was crazy, but suddenly as the rage built up inside of him, he felt like it was the only thing he _wanted_ to do.

 

“Well, Feldspar?” Bebe managed through her tears.

 

“I’m going to kill the Grand Wizard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I have been super busy irl but wanted to get this out, so sorry if the editing is a little sloppy. You're free to lmk if you see anything glaring out at you.
> 
> Also yes that was supposed to be subtle Bunny. Plus Nazi Zombie Princess Kenny reference.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew that he wasn’t being smart. He was the type who liked to stay on his toes, play things by ear, and be adaptable to his situations. He always liked to have a clear outline of a plan with various options.
> 
> All he knew was that he was going to kill the Grand Wizard. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY SO I'M REALLY SORRY FOR THIS CHAPTER TAKING SO LONG. It kind of sucks that I had actual time to write this month yet suffered from MASSIVE writer's block for this chapter. Sorry if it's a little clunky for that reason, it was just a ridiculously hard chapter for me to write (which I'm aware I say every chapter). 
> 
> I also made a little post regarding little details regarding the world in this universe, such as the village/kingdom structure and Craig's necklace that you can check out on my tumblr here: https://wintergrew.tumblr.com/post/175779887799/a-few-things-regarding-the-thief

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

 

He knew that he wasn’t being smart. While he was the type who liked to stay on his toes, play things by ear, and be adaptable to his situations. He always liked to have a clear outline of a plan with various options.

 

All he knew was that he was going to kill the Grand Wizard. He  _ had _ to.

 

It was too late for Red. Sure, he never trusted her for a moment of his life. He never let himself care about her too much. Still, he didn’t want her to  _ die. _

 

But it wasn’t too late for Clyde. He could still be saved. He could still be  _ free _ .

 

Craig and Clyde, free from this awful city. Free from this awful kingdom. Free to finally build what they had so desperately wanted for so long.

 

He realized his fantasies were uncharacteristically hopeful for him. Perhaps he was so far down that he needed some semblance of hope. But now all he could  _ afford  _ to pin his hopes on was the look the Wizard’s face when he finally slit his throat.

 

In the back of his mind, a voice screamed that he was being stupid. There was no way he could take down the Grand Wizard. He wouldn’t be able to even come near him.

 

Not only did the voice in his head tell him this, but so did a physical one.

 

“Feldspar, please don’t do this!” Bebe cried, as she visited his place once more in an attempt to stop him, “You know you would just get caught. I’d only lose you too. Please don’t do this, I’ve already lost too much.”

 

“Don’t act like I mean anything to you,” he rolled his eyes as he started to close the door on her.

 

“Only because you don’t let me!” she yelled, grabbing his wrist that reached for the door, “Only Clyde. Not Red, not me, not  _ anyone  _ else. Don’t throw away your life like this--Clyde wouldn’t want--”

 

“Don’t act like you know what Clyde wants,” Craig pushed her hand away, “You don’t know what he wants.  _ No one _ knows what he wants except for me.”

 

She slowly brought both her hands to her sides, narrowing her eyes at him. 

 

“Fine then,” she said in a calm voice, “Do your useless suicide mission. See if I care once you’re gone. See if  _ anyone  _ cares.”

 

“Well, I can’t do that if I’m  _ dead _ , now can I?” he scoffed.

 

Bebe glared at him. It was clear she was finished trying with him. Without another word, she left, slamming his own door in his face.

 

Craig could hear her footsteps as she stomped away down the stairs, gradually growing softer and softer until they finally disappeared. When he heard she was gone, he punched the door, nearly breaking it apart from its hinges. He pushed his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. His head hurt. He tangled his fingers in his hair beneath his hat.

 

Bebe was right. He knew she was. And yet, that still didn’t change his mind in the slightest.

 

Craig was a logical person. In fact, others often said he was overly logical to a fault. He always liked to go with the most reasonable course of action, even if it was not the one with the highest potential.

 

He had  _ also _ gone through tragedy and hardship no one in this spoiled city could ever dream of. Yet it was always okay because, despite everything, he always had Clyde at his side. Without him, he felt like he was going to puke.

 

Clyde was counting on him. He was alive out there, waiting for him.

 

Legs shaking, Craig forced himself to stand back up. He gripped the stolen knight’s blade tightly in his hand. He knew he should just get it over with. Three days had passed already and he hadn’t actually done anything.

 

Maybe he was simply overthinking it. It was a job, like any other. It would be like a job to pickpocket him. Only, instead of reaching his hand into his pocket, he would be shoving a blade into his vital organs. With that perspective on his mind, he opened the door Bebe had slammed in his face and went down the stairs.

 

Feldspar was a thief. Not an assassin. Over the years he often got many job offers to kill, often for extremely high wages. Yet he always turned them down. It wasn’t that he didn’t think that a lot of the people weren’t scum who probably  _ deserved  _ to be killed, but that wasn’t the path he had decided to go down--workwise anyway. Not to mention, he already had Wendy Testaburger on him trying to pin him down for a murder.

 

Still, he always thought he hypothetically would make a good assassin. He was good at being covert and under the radar. He was good at sneaking up behind people. He was good at leaving no trace of his presence. He wasn’t classically trained in combat like a knight, but he thought of himself as capable in hand to hand combat and pretty handy with a short blade or knife.

 

Of course, all of that would be useless against someone with all the magic in the world. He would have to use his stealth method. Sneak up on him in his chambers and stab him from behind. He tried to tell himself that even if he was caught, if it was a spell that was cast on Princess Kenny it would surely break and she would no doubt pardon him and order Clyde freed as thanks. Or, at the very least, even if he was killed in retaliation, the Princess would still free Clyde. Which was what really mattered.

 

It was easy. It would be easy. He could do it.

 

Yet when he finally reached the castle he felt his stomach drop to the ground.

 

But he had already made it this far. No turning back now.

 

He examined the castle’s exterior the best he could. He had already been in it, so it wasn’t like he was going in blind. He made sure the last time he went to the palace to pay attention to all the important details he could. As soon as he entered it with Bebe, he made sure he paid attention to every guard, every window, anything that could help him in future scenarios. But then, that was second nature for him  _ anywhere _ he went over the years.

 

He knew the tallest tower housed the zombified princess. He knew the Royal Family’s chambers were once above the grand staircase, likely where the Grand Wizard himself now lived. He also knew that there must be separate staircases for the help that would be more stealth for him to use. He also noticed a very sparse amount of knights and servants within the palace itself.

 

The guard at the front gate was different from the lady before. It was a young man this time, far more relaxed in stature. Craig was relieved. The woman was a hardass, but he would probably be much easier to get past. He would still have to think of a plan, but the advantage was his. He stared at the man a little longer. His initial plan was to sneak past any guard, but now he wondered if he should use an alternative method.

 

“Excuse me,” Craig approached the guard casually.

 

Craig stopped himself. This plan of action meant he was going to be seen. It meant he could be later identified. 

 

Well, it’s not like he wasn’t likely to get caught anyway, successful or otherwise.

 

“What’re you supposed to be?” the guard asked with a crooked smile, raising his eyebrow. He had a very casual, laid back tone as Craig had expected and hoped he would. He would use this for his advantage.

 

“Is Butters around?” he asked in a monotone voice, feigning annoyance, “He said he’d meet me in the town square an hour ago.”

 

“Butters--oh, ya mean that Paladin guy. Leopold, yeah?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Oh man he’s a total airhead, that one. I saw him wander into the palace not long ago.”

 

“Typical,” Craig groaned, rubbing his temple.

 

“What did ya need  _ him  _ for anyways?” the guard asked.

 

“Important bullshit,” Craig groaned, “I mean, it’s important, but it’s also total bullshit. You know how it is.”

 

“Unfortunately,” the guard laughed, “Want me to get ‘em called over for ya?”

 

“Nah, he’d probably just make an excuse again,” Craig frowned, “He  _ always  _ does. He’s been avoiding me for fucking weeks now, always coming up with some excuse. I mean, we’re good friends and all, but when it comes to actual important stuff he  _ always  _ does this shit to me. That’s why I wanted to come here to try and corner him.”

 

“Ah whatever, I probably shouldn’t let you in, but no one’s around. Just be quick and try and drag him out, okay?” the guard shrugged.

 

“Thanks man,” Craig smiled, flipping the guard a gold coin in good measure, “I was thinking he’d be in the Wizard’s chambers in the...second floor of east tower, wasn’t it?”

 

“ _ West  _ tower,” the guard caught the coin with a smirk, “But no, I think he’s back out in the inner courtyard.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Craig walked towards the hall that would lead courtyard in case he was being watched, but then stopped. That guard was dumber than he expected. It was a wonder how the Grand Wizard hadn’t  _ already _ been executed yet. Craig sighed, letting his knife slip down his sleeve from which he hid it into the grasp of his hand.

 

It was known he was here, so he would have to be quick.

 

He pressed his back to the wall. He was really doing this. No going back now.

 

Everyone knew the Grand Wizard was a lazy piece of shit. No doubt he would be in his bed chambers, probably fast asleep. He would slip into his room and press his knife against his fat throat. He would be dead before he even knew what hit him.

 

There would almost definitely be guards at his door, however. Probably at least two fully armed and suited up knights. Undoubtedly more ept that that dumb asshole at the entrance. They wouldn’t just let him pass and even if they would wake the Wizard first. They would have his eyes on him the entire time.

 

The easiest way would be to sneak in from above or below. Risky, but there wasn’t really an alternative. Below would be where any servants would be located, while above would be less likely to have anyone around. So above it was.

 

He made his way up the a winding staircase used for servants, avoiding the far more obvious grand staircase. It was nicer than that of the dreary staircase that led to the princess, but there was still a noticeable difference from the lavish decorations of the rest of the palace.

 

Craig pressed himself as closely to the wall as possible, hoping desperately that no servants were to pass him. He was always quite talented at walking slowly among the shadows--without a sound, without a presence. He carefully looked across the hallway when he reached the second floor of the tower. As he expected, two fully armed knights stood at a large doorway, all but confirming the bedroom of the Wizard.

 

With a small relieved sigh, he carefully and silently continued on up the winding staircase.

 

He made sure he examined the palace from the outside, so he knew exactly where all the windows were as well as the general layout of the palace. However, he knew that swinging from one window to another would almost definitely lead him to being seen from the outside, and even if he wasn’t, the shattering of glass would be heard.

 

The floors would be too thick to cut through. Not to mention, once again, loud.

 

He didn’t need either, however. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

 

It was rumored that there was a dumbwaiter that went between the two princesses’ rooms. Princess Kenny claimed she wanted food to be delivered directly to her chambers, but it was said it was more frequently used for the two princesses to send each other secret messages.

 

It was just a rumor, but Craig believed it.

 

With the royal family gone, the third floor of the palace was vacant. It was sparsely decorated, and looked like it hadn’t been dusted or tidied up in quite a long time. More like an abandoned attic, with dusty old tables and chairs than a once great wing of a palace that housed royalty for centuries.

 

With light footsteps, he went into the bedroom that would be directly above that of the Wizard’s, hoping at praying that it not only existed, but that the Wizard did in fact claim one of the princesses rooms.

 

The bedroom was dusty and there was no lighting, yet he could still see that it was very soft and pink. Not littered with various things like that of Princess Kenny’s prison. Much more subtle. More warm and loving. Like a lot of thought and care went into decorating the room, making sure that whoever lived there knew that they were loved.

 

It had to have been Princess Karen’s room.

 

He didn’t have time, but he found himself wanting to look closely at the room. For the most part, he knew that he was stalling, but he couldn’t help but always be reminded of his sister. Karen was about the same age Tricia would be. If they were born into this life--

 

Craig found himself staring at a large painting over the light pink canopy bed. It featured the three royal children. An aloof Prince Kevin stood to the right looking off to the distance away from the painter, wearing princely garbs that even the painting made obvious were awkward on him. To his right, on the left side of the painting stood a much younger, young teenage Princess Kenny, smiling at a very young Princess Karen who stood in the center, an arm on her shoulder. The two princesses were both very beautiful.

 

He was definitely stalling.

 

He gripped his blade firmly in his hand and wandered to the far walls, looking for the supposed dumbwaiter. He pressed against the wall, unsure if it was hidden for security reasons. Finally, he realized what it was. It was a white little doorway that looked like a little cabinet. He opened it slowly and he could see the long rope going down below.

 

He waited a few seconds to see if it was in use. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Wizard was using it frequently for fresh food from the kitchen. When he saw that nothing changed, he very slowly and carefully pulled the platform up.

 

The dumbwaiter was for food, not humans. He wasn’t sure how much weight it could carry. If the rope snapped, this could end very badly. Still, he didn’t exactly have other options and he knew the risks he was taking here anyway. With a deep breath, he pushed himself up and slowly slid onto the small platform.

 

He didn’t budge. He let out a sigh of relief. This was it.

 

_ This was it _ .

 

His heart began pounding. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation hit him. He was mere moments away from a near suicide mission to kill the Grand Wizard Eric Theodore Cartman himself. He was going to try and covertly kill the most powerful being in all of Zaron. Even if he got away with it, the odds of him being quickly killed in revenge by his knights would be high. He hadn’t even bothered to think of an escape plan.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. This was to save Clyde. To get Clyde free from the terrible solitude of banishment, to allow Clyde to live out his dreams.

 

For Clyde, it was worth it.

 

He tried to take a deep breath, but he found himself nearly panting. This wasn’t like him. He had to maintain focus, to be completely on the top of his game to succeed.

 

He attempted his deep breath again, slightly more successful this time. Good enough. With trembling hands, he slowly used the rope to lower himself down.

 

As he reached the second floor, he noticed the the door to the dumbwaiter was partially ajar. He was worried about how he was going to open it from the inside. He sat still and listened. He could hear the Wizard loudly snoring

 

A sick feeling rose up in him. How this was all so  _ easy _ .  _ Too _ easy. The guard who so naively let him in on his own, the lack of staff running into him, a dumbwaiter that was far too convenient--

 

He balled his free hand into a fist. He had no time to think about that right now. This was it.

 

Carefully, to avoid a squeaking sound of the door, he slowly pushed it open and very gently lowered himself to the floor. His hand tightened once more around the blade as he ever so carefully walked to the Wizard’s bed where he so clearly laid. He took the smallest steps he ever had in his life, careful to make steps and breaths quiet enough to not disturb even the world’s lightest sleeper. If only his pounding chest got the message.

 

After what felt like forever, he finally approached the large bed. The sleeping Wizard was facing away from him, towards the wall that which the bed was pressed against. No matter, Craig could carefully climb onto the bed and get the right angle to slit his throat.

 

Biting his lip, he carefully put his first knee on the bed, careful to not at all shift the mattress itself. It was soft, just like he expected royalty to sleep on. Not that he had time to dwell on that now. Instead, he carefully analyzed the movements of the Wizard to make sure he didn’t wake him.

 

Slowly, he lifted his other leg up onto the bed, shifting the mattress a little more than he would have liked, instantly causing him to panic. The Wizard, however, only responded with another loud snore.

 

Very carefully, he shifted himself closer and closer to the Wizard on the massive mattress. He now gripped the blade with both hands, leaning further and further over to the Wizard.

 

Trying his luck, Craig gently let one hand touch the shoulder of the Wizard, gently guiding his body to lay down on his back, where he could get the best stabbing angle. The deep sleeping Wizard complied, rolling over with a light thump.

 

The Wizard was an ugly man, even in sleep. 

 

He was ugly through and through. He turned Princess Kenny into a monster, ruined her family, murdered Red, banished Clyde.

 

A tear began forming in Craig’s eyes. He didn’t like to cry, and he hated that this man made him feel such negative emotions.

 

He hated this man more than he had ever hated another living soul.

 

With a sharp inhale, he grasped the blade with both hands above his head. He swung his arms down as hard as he could, aiming straight for the Wizard’s neck.

 

It was quicker than a second.

 

Yet, somehow within that second came out a flash of light. The Wizard’s eyes swung wide open with a glow. Not even sure what was happening, the flash of light blasted Craig, blasted him away from the Wizard and against the wall on the other side of the room.

 

Or at least, that’s what he figured had happened. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

Craig figured that he died. That bright flash of light must have killed him. He wasn’t really that upset by the concept. Annoyed, maybe, but not devastated.

 

He kind of figured he was going to die anyway, afterall. Still, he really wanted to succeed in killing the Wizard.

 

What would this mean for Clyde now?

 

Could he even tell in whatever stupid afterlife existed? Would he be doomed forever to know that he failed but would never know if Clyde ever became free?

 

It pissed him off.

 

_ “Feldspar,”  _ a voice called out.

 

Well, maybe the afterlife at the very least wasn’t going to be solitary loneliness for all of eternity. Given the name called out, he could only guess that it was Red. He groaned. He honestly wouldn’t have minded crushing solitude for all eternity if it meant he’d be left alone from annoying chatter.

 

_ “Feldspar, get up!” _ a voice called out in the darkness again. It didn’t really  _ sound _ like Red. He also realized he physically didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t exactly find himself in the darkness that consumed him.

 

_ “Please wake up,”  _ the voice pleaded once more.

 

Those words sent a jolt into Craig.  _ “Wake up.” _ That would imply he wasn’t dead. It wouldn’t make much sense, there’s no reason, even if that blast didn’t kill him, that he wouldn’t immediately be killed right after for the red handed murder attempt.

 

Still, if he was alive, that would mean he still had a fighting chance. He could still make things right. He should try to “wake up”.

 

He tried to find himself in the darkness.

 

_ “Feldspar can you hear me?” _

 

The voice wasn’t Red, but it was definitely female. He could tell that the words were definitely spoken directly into his ears.

 

It was then that he realized the words made his ears  _ burn _ . They sent shocks directly into his head, triggering an awful headache.

 

He was in pain. His head felt like it was going to explode.

 

“Come on,” she pleaded once more. He could tell she was touching him. He could also tell that every muscle in his body ached.

 

He tried to respond, but only let out pained groans. With great struggle, he opened his eyes, nearly blinded by the light, even though it was very dim.

 

“You’re awake!” Wendy Testaburger exclaimed.

 

He tried to speak again, but once more couldn’t through the aching pain. He quickly regretted waking up. 

 

“You got hexxed,” she explained, removing a wet rag he hadn’t realized was placed on his head, “I mean, it’s kind of what you get for trying to assassinate the Grand Wizard. But it will wear off within the next day or so.”

 

“Wh-Where am I?” Craig finally managed, unintentionally biting the inside of his mouth hard enough to bleed in the process. 

 

“In the dungeon, where else?” Wendy rolled her eyes. She dipped the rag into a bowl of liquid and placed it back on his head.

 

“Wh-Why are you--”

 

“Bebe asked me to check on you. Make sure you weren’t rotting away, especially given that you were thrown in here unconscious a couple days ago.”

 

“ _ Days? _ ” Craig nearly sat up from shock, stopped only by the spazzing pain in his back muscles. Still, he managed to see more of his cell. It was dark, with no windows and only a few candles lighting the place outside of his cell. It was dark and stone, like something out of a nightmare. He realized he wasn’t on a proper bed or mattress, but instead a wooden slab.

 

“I couldn’t come sooner,” she said, “But I’m glad I did. You were convulsing, if I didn’t come when I did...Well, anyway now you owe me one. Or I guess Bebe.”

 

“Wh-Where is Bebe?”

 

“She’s fine.”

 

“What’s going to happen to me?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Well, are they going to kill me?” Craig asked, his voice unintentionally angered as he tried to speak through the pain.

 

“It would make sense, given what you tried to do,” she sighed, standing up, the sound of her metal knight uniform clanking very lightly but enough to trigger a throbbing pain in his head. She looked at him once more with an unreadable expression, “I brought food for you,” she gestured to a small makeshift table with a piece of meat and vegetables, nicer food than he normally had. “They rarely feed prisoners here, so...”

 

“From Bebe?” he managed.

 

“No,” she answered as she signaled to the guard to open the cast iron gate of his cell.

 

“Then--?”

 

“For Red,” she responded, looking straight at the floor. 

 

With that, she left him alone in his dreary, dimly lit cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbwaiters didn't exist until the 1800s but I don't care. This is a fantasy universe I do what I want.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think! Thank you everyone who has continued to support this story!


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you think I would want to do something for you?” Craig asked, “I mean, like I said, I’d rather fucking die horribly than be your guard, so that should tell you that I’m not super desperate to be spared. What’s in it for me, especially if you say that I’ll likely die in that mission, anyway?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cartman was somehow more fun to write than I expected.

As Wendy had conjectured, the pain began to subside about a day later. That said, it was easily one of the longest days of his life. 

 

They say things get worse before they get better, and that was definitely the case with this hex. It went without saying that he wasn’t able to get up to eat the food Wendy had left for him. As it got worse and worse, he found himself audibly screaming. Of course, the rotating dungeon guards only laughed at his struggles. It felt like it would never end, but eventually it did. It first started subsiding in his hands and feet, then the entirety of his limbs. Within minutes, the pain finally subsided. He realized he was covered in an extremely thick pool of sweat. He was also incredibly thirsty. Slowly as to not push himself, he sat up, joints lightly cracking. Part of him was still sore, not from the hex, but from having laid on a shitty dungeon slab for days.

 

He was also now able to fully take in just how dark and dreary this dungeon was.

 

As Wendy had claimed, he hadn’t received any other food in the dungeon. He stretched his shoulders and stood up, going to the untouched plate she provided him. It was covered in flies. Shooing the flies away halfheartedly with one hand, he began to eat. It had gotten a little stale from sitting out, but it was tolerable for him. The guard completely ignored the change of his condition. Craig decided it would be better to mutually ignore him.

 

A piece of potato dropped from his hands and onto his lap. Quickly, he reached to pick it up. It was then for the first time he realized that the pants he had on were not his own. They had changed him into prisoners garments and took his hat. Instinctively, his hand reached for his chest. It was gone. His hands balled into fists. It was no use, he was probably going to be executed soon anyway. He was probably kept alive so they could make an example of him. A public execution in the city square. Unless.

 

Unless, he was able to escape. Maybe he could pick the lock, overcome the guards, sneak away from the city in the silence of night. It would be very hard for him to ever rescue Clyde that way. He sighed. He just wish he had his pendant back, as stupid as it was. He failed. That fact was only just starting to hit him. It came with crushing disappointment that he would rather not think about.

 

As if to intentionally interrupt his thoughts, suddenly he hear footsteps approaching in the distance. Possibly the guards changing shifts, he figured. He had no concept of what time it was, but he knew they did every so often.  If he wanted to consider escaping, he should pay careful attention--he certainly wasn’t able to before while withering in pain. Part of him wished he had thought to pretend he was still in pain. It would have helped him, strategically speaking. Oh well, hindsight always seems to be like that.

 

“My Lord, it is of the utmost honor--”

 

“Oh come on Larry, don’t talk to me like we didn’t just get shitface wasted together two weeks ago.” Craig’s attention was piqued. He recognized that voice. He quietly put down his plate of stale food.

 

“Uh...Yes. Well, this way M-My Lord,” the guard’s voice grew louder, “If you’re still sure you want to meet him. You do realize what he--”

 

“Obviously I’m sure if I came this far.” Mere seconds later, Lord Marsh stopped right in front of Craig’s dungeon cel, his face expressionless. The guard opened the gate and let him in.

 

“Larry, could you please leave us alone for a few minutes?” he finally spoke.

 

“I don’t think that would be wise--”

 

“I was trying to phrase it nicely, but that wasn’t really a request.”

 

“Ten minutes, and then I’ll be back,” the guard sighed. Craig and Lord Marsh both stayed silent as the clanking footsteps of the guard faded into the distance. Then there was silence.

 

“Why did you come here?” Craig finally asked.

 

“We told you you’d always have an ally in House of Marsh, didn’t we, Feldspar?” he answered, “Though to be fair, we didn’t think you’d go out and actually try and assassinate the Grand Wizard.”

 

“I’m more surprised trying to assassinate the Grand Wizard didn’t null that,” Craig raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well yeah, you are on pretty thin ice.”

 

“So what’s my status?” Craig stood up, “I don’t want bullshit. Am I a dead man walking or not?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

Craig stretched his arms, still sore from the days of laying and withering in pain, “I think if that was 100%, you wouldn’t bother coming here to see me. You also came at almost the exact time that awful fucking hex wore off, which I don’t think is coincidence.”

 

“Smart boy,” Lord Marsh cracked a smile.

 

“I just wanna know how the hell I could even have a  _ remote _ possibility of the Grand Wizard deciding to let me go after...you, know trying to assassinate him in his sleep and all.”

 

His smile faded. “It won’t be easy.”

 

“What’s your angle, then? I hope you actually have one and aren’t just wasting my time.”

 

“ _ Why _ did you try to kill him?” Lord Marsh asked as he sat on Craig’s bed slab, “Are you an assassin? Did you get contracted to?” Craig was thrown off guard by the question, even though she should have known to expect it. “He banished my best friend,” he finally said. He quickly averted his gaze from the older man, looking to the floor.

 

“And you wanted revenge?”

 

“I--” Craig paused, those obnoxious feelings of emotion raising up in him, “I hoped that if he was killed, then maybe...Maybe the Princess would--”

 

“How much do you know about her?” Lord Marsh cut him off suddenly.

 

Craig turned back to face him, “How much  _ should _ I know?”

 

“If you hope to walk away from this? Nothing.”

 

“Okay then,” Craig answered, “It was outta revenge. I was all hopeless that my only friend was banished from all of space and time and wanted retaliation.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“You still didn’t answer me. What’s the angle?” Craig asked, more accusatory, “You convince him I have some good excuse that’s forgivable and then what? I can just walk out of here a free man?”

 

“Not exactly,” he explained, “The ‘free man’ part, anyway.”

 

“Oh, so send me to the ‘workforce’?” Craig rolled his eyes, “Like that’s much better than dying.”

 

“No, not that,” he explained, “More like, the Wizard has been looking for someone for a mission of his. With your skills, we’re thinking maybe you could do it, in exchange for your freedom.”

 

“A mission?”

 

“It’d be pretty dangerous, and I’m not sure if the Wizard is going to go for it,” he sighed, “But it’s the best I can think of. To be honest, I was thinking of you as a possible candidate, even before all this happened.”

 

“Are you going to explain more, or leave it intentionally vague?” Craig rolled his eyes.

 

“The Wizard will explain it to you,” Lord Marsh stood up, heading towards the gate where the guard would return in just a minute or so more to rise it. He looked down at the pathetic plate of half-eaten stale food on the plate Wendy had given to him. With a snap of his fingers and use of his magic, the food was turned as good as new. Fresh, uneaten.

 

“Why are you doing all this for me?” Craig asked, “All I did is help return a piece of jewelry.”

 

“That was a reminder of my missing son,” he looked away, “I was thinking...if you  _ do _ go on this mission, maybe you can find him...Tell him--”

 

“Okay, I get it, the jewelry was sentimental,” Craig cut him off quickly. He really didn’t want to be caught up in the Marsh family drama, especially with Lord Marsh’s delusions about his long dead son.

 

“Oh, about jewelry,” Lord Marsh stopped in his tracks, “That necklace you always wore. You didn’t steal it, did you, Feldspar?”

 

“No!” Craig objected, “It was a gift, a really important one. Actually, if you could do  _ anything  _ for me, I’d really like to have it back.”

 

“Who gave it to you?” he asked.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“It’s just that I recognized it from when I was a lot younger. It belonged to Lady Laura of House Tucker. It just seemed kind of odd that you would have it.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Craig managed to force out instinctively.

 

He laughed lightly, reaching into a pocket of his long cloak, “I know you try to be pretty cautious, but you’re really going to have to be more careful than that.”

 

“What do you--?”

 

Lord Marsh pulled something out and tossed it to him. It was his mother’s necklace.

 

With that, the guard’s footsteps began approaching. The guard reached the gate and told him his time was up. He raised the gate and led the magician out of the dungeon. Before he left, however, he cast a spell on his plate, replenishing his food and making it as good as new. Craig was left alone in his dark, dreary cell once more.

 

* * *

 

Several more days passed before anything happened, only the guards who mutually ignored him. Craig wondered if he was completely forgotten about, left to rot in his cell for all eternity. It did somewhat annoy him, waiting to be talked to about some plan, some mission. It made him wait it out, instead of going through with an escape plan. He ended up spending most of his time lying around uselessly. He examined the feldspar necklace closely.

 

_ House Tucker _ .

 

In all his years with his mother, she never mentioned exactly were she came from. She never mentioned her family. No parents, no siblings, nothing. She talked about the life of a noble in a general fashion, but she was always extremely vague about her own life. He had never heard the name “Tucker” from her before. He tried to think if he had heard the name around in Kupa City before. Perhaps there were other Tuckers running around, perhaps he had run into them. But he couldn’t recall such. He didn’t like to think about his mother being a born noble. He  _ hated _ nobles. He didn’t want to do research on her, trying to find out where she came from. She rejected their snobby life, and everyone who banished her were the stuck up filth like all the rest of them. He didn’t want to know about them, he didn’t want to think of them as related to him at all.

 

He was, of course, naturally also alarmed that Lord Randy recognized the necklace. He wasn’t quite sure for how long. Did he recognize it the day he walked into the city all those years ago? Is that related to why he let him in so easily? He liked to tell himself that it was only when it was confiscated after the assassination attempt, that he got to analyze it closely. But he couldn’t fully convince himself of this. Did Lord Marsh know his true identity? Did he know that he was the son of Laura? If Lord Marsh knew where the necklace came from, how many others could have? How many did?

 

Craig felt sick to his stomach. Lord Marsh was right about one thing. He  _ did _ need to be more careful. Or rather, he  _ should _ have been. All those years, walking around with a noticeable necklace belonging to a cast out noblewoman. Especially when he conveniently arrived after her village was burnt to the ground.

 

He didn’t starve, at least. Lord Marsh’s spell not only replenished his food from when he first cast the spell--it replenished as soon as he stopped eating, whether he finished everything completely or ate just a little bit. The cup of water never got lower, no matter how much he drank. He had to be grateful for that, he certainly didn’t get any food or water from anyone else.He thought again that maybe this was all a trick to keep him complacent. He’d survive indefinitely in here, and as long as he thought there was a way out, they would believe he wouldn’t try and escape.

 

Joke’s on them, he was getting pretty sick of eating the same food. Sure, he ate mainly the same food near daily for most of his life. But paying attention to that fact wouldn’t help his motivation to get the hell out of this depressing cell.

 

“So like, I get that dungeons usually just leave people to rot until they become some cliche skeletons shackled to the wall,” Craig decided to give a rare attempt at talking to the guard on staff, “But like, I’m just curious. After everything is that really you guys are planning to do with me?”

 

“Shut up, prisoner,” the guard hissed.

 

“I noticed that I’m not actually shackled,” Craig continued, “So like, do you guys wait to shackle dead people to the wall  _ after _ they become skeletons as part of your weird unsettling decorating routine? Is it even the prisoners? Or do you guys find random dead bodies to do that to?” The guard ignored him.

 

“If I  _ am  _ waiting to be executed,” Craig found himself pondering out loud, still to the guard, “I’ve seen executions. Those people are almost always already beat up pretty bad. Why am I not?”

 

“Would you  _ like  _ me to torture you?” the guard grinned sinisterly.

 

“You’re implying that like it’s an option for you.”

 

“Watch your mouth, prisoner,” he growled, glaring at Craig directly in the eye from the other side of his locked dungeon cell, “Or I’ll take away that fancy food of yours.”

 

Craig raised an eyebrow. The guard  _ wasn’t _ allowed to touch him. “Go ahead. I’m tired of that shit anyway,” Craig shrugged turning away.

 

The guard cursed under his breath, but otherwise did nothing. He wasn’t allowed to touch his food, either. It  _ was  _ there for the purpose of keeping him alive. All of his suspicions were correct.

 

He concluded that there was really no reason to leave someone like him to rot. They’d kill him, let him starve. Not leave him perfectly comfortable. Or well, as much as he could be in this dark, dreary cell. Maybe there  _ was _ a plan for him. He would give Lord Marsh another week.

 

* * *

 

 

Almost another week did go by. Craig felt bored out of his mind.

 

He tried to come up with potential escape plans, some which could possibly work. But more than anything, he was becoming more and more impatient with the supposed plan to get him out. He didn’t understand why  _ no one _ could visit him again. Not just Lord Marsh, but what about Wendy? What about Bebe, who supposedly sent her? Okay, maybe Bebe was probably too pissed to see him. Sending a friend to make sure he wasn’t dead was one thing and didn’t mean he was spared her anger.

 

“Someone’s here for you,” a guard called to him emotionlessly, as if interrupting his thoughts.

 

Craig sat up straight. “Who?” he asked, trying to tone down potential eagerness with a twinge of skepticism. 

 

“Me,” a voice called out, the corresponding figure emerging with it. 

 

It was Wendy Testaburger.

 

She was dressed in official garb, but unlike the usual hard metal of her usual knight’s uniform, it was of soft purple and pink material, save a metal plate covering her chest. It screamed diplomatic outfit.

 

Dame Wendy Testaburger had been trying to peg him for murder for years. She helped him in his cell, but he wasn’t sure exactly what her intentions were. He knew from experience that people were often fair-weather friends, changing loyalties at the drop of a hat. Still, he would be cautious. The guard lifted the gate and approached him, signaling for him to follow. Or rather, practically forcing him. Craig obliged. 

 

“The Wizard ordered he be blindfolded to prevent any tricks,” Wendy stated emotionlessly, tossing over a cloth to the guard.

 

“Wait a second, I--” Craig objected.

 

“Either you come blindfolded or not at all,” she answered coldly. Craig sighed and against his better judgement allowed the guard to blindfold him. Once it was securely in place, the guard pushed him forward, leading him out of the cell.

 

“So is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked, as the three traversed their way up the dreary hallways of the dungeon. 

 

The guard snickered, “You’re not really in a position to--”

 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Wendy cut him off.

 

Craig sighed again, but relented. However, even blindfolded, he was careful to memorize every step he took, counting each and every one of them as well as the number of stairs he climbed. The number of left turns, right turns. He listened closely for dripping water, wind that could be coming from cracks or windows,  _ anything _ that could help him if he found himself needing to escape.

Eventually they stopped him and opened a pair of doors. He could tell from the sound that they were very large, heavy doors. A moderate gust of wind blew on them as they opened. It must be the entrance to the dungeon, he figured. The guard pushed him forward and out, out into the open. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was--the city had multiple dungeons with multiple entrances to help confuse prisoners, but he could hear chatter. He could tell by slight noises from Wendy and the guard that they were attempting to shooing away any nosy onlookers. Finally, after a long walk in the open, he was lead into another building and taken up winding stairs of what he could only presume was one of many large towers. Carefully, he was eventually guided into a room. A pair of hands carefully went to the back of his head and untied his blindfold.

 

The first thing he saw was the Grand Wizard’s face. Butters was standing next to where he sit, his face troubled. Instantly, Craig’s fight or flight instinct kicked in. He wanted to kill this the Wizard, but just being in his very presence physically sickened him. “Take a seat, Feldspar,” the Wizard gave a cruel grin.

 

Craig probably would have, given that there wasn’t like he had any other choice. Yet, he did not sit himself down. An unseen force moved his body, forcing him into the chair. It was as if he completely lost control of his body. So this was the Grand Wizard’s magic.

 

The Wizard, similarly to how he had seen Marsh do before, floated in two plates of food, a larger one for himself, and a smaller one for Craig. It was a whole miniature chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. There was a glass of wine in a fancy jeweled gold chalice that he knew was probably expensive. A great quality meal he was sure, but he had no appetite.

 

“So, I’m wondering,” the Wizard said with a full mouth as he started eating, “Did you  _ actually _ think you could kill me?  _ You _ a thief. Against,  _ me _ the great Grand Wizard?”

 

Craig didn’t say a word, only lightly poking at his potatoes with his fork.

 

With only the slightest movement of the Grand Wizard’s hand, Craig’s body became overcome with pain, dropping his fork to the floor. He tried to bite the inside of his mouth to prevent a scream, but he couldn’t help but cry out. Fortunately, unlike the hex he endured, the pain left him only a few seconds later. As it left him, he found himself gasping for air. “I asked you a question,” the Wizard smiled.

 

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about  _ why  _ I  _ wanted _ to kill you?” Craig glared, picking up the fork from the floor.

 

“No. Maybe in a minute, but you gotta see where I’m coming from. I’m the bravest, strongest, most powerful Wizard--no  _ being _ in all of Zaron. You’re just a petty little thief with no magic at all. Imagine some shitty little ant going against a dragon,” he laughed.

 

“Well, I got pretty far, didn’t I?” Craig smiled sweetly.

 

The Wizard's smile faded. “No you didn’t.”

 

“I managed to breach all of your security, wander the castle unnoticed, and even made it into your bedroom without any suspicion whatsoever. If you didn’t have some hex or whatever shielding you, you’d have been dead. All without using any of your magic ricks.”

 

The Grand Wizard stood up, his face turning red with anger. “I’ll fucking show you magic--”

 

“Wait!” Wendy cut him off, “With all due respect, isn’t that  _ why  _ you wanted to bring him here?”

 

The Wizard sighed and sat down. His boiling anger faded, but he still looked irritated. “Don’t interrupt me,” he scoffed under his breath.

 

“Excuse me?” Craig asked incredulously. 

 

“I  _ said _ this bitch shouldn’t interrupt me,” the Wizard frowned, “She’s already on thin ice.”

 

“N-No, not that. I mean you brought me here  _ because  _ I was almost able to kill you? So what, you think that makes me useful?”

 

“Maybe not, if you aren't capable of basic respect” he spat, “This was a stupid idea. You should be publicly burned alive if only for the way you think you can talk to me.”

 

“So what is it you want me to do? Be your bodyguard?” he smirked, “I think I’d  _ rather _ be publicly burned alive.”

 

“You think I would tolerate filth like you?” he frowned, “I want you for a mission. One that would probably get you killed anyway.”

 

“Why do you think I would  _ want  _ to do something for you?” Craig asked, “As I said, I’d rather fucking die horribly than be your guard. So that should tell you that I’m not super desperate to be spared. What’s in it for me, especially if you say that I’ll likely die in that mission, anyway?”

 

“Fine then, I’ll gladly have you executed.”

 

“Wait!” Wendy interrupted again, “Maybe you  _ should  _ ask him why he tried to kill you.”

 

Craig’s eyes widened. He knew what Wendy was getting at. His heart started beating rapidly.

 

“I told you to watch your mouth, trying to order me around,” the Wizard spat at her. There was a brief pause. “So why did you want to kill me?” the Wizard grumbled under his breath.

 

“For my best friend, Clyde,” he answered earnestly, without the sardonic tone he had before, “He worked for you. He went through  _ hell  _ for you, and then you banished him.”

 

“You’d do all that for a friend? Haha, that’s dumb.”

 

“No it’s not!” he found his temper rising. Then he took a deep breath, to force himself to stay leveled, “He...He was all I had. We’d been through a lot together, and  _ you _ took away everything! I lost my only family, and now I have to live with the fact that he’s banished from space and time, all alone!”

 

“Yeah, whatever. I remember Clyde,” he stared him down, “He was a real fucking idiot. You know, he was probably only holding you back.”

 

“Even if he was, I wouldn’t give a shit about that!” Craig found the volume of his voice rising, “I’d do  _ anything _ for him!”

 

“Anything?” he smirked slightly, raising his eyebrow.

 

_ Bingo _ , Craig thought. He tried to keep his face straight, not showing the sudden rush of internal relief and adrenaline that was building up inside of him.

 

“Anything!” Craig tried to put on a pleading tone, despite his internal demeanor growing far more calculative. It was pretty hard for him, he was always a terrible actor. He wished he could put on tears, but unfortunately crying was a rare thing for him, and he especially couldn’t cry on demand.

 

“Well fuck,” the Wizard laughed awkwardly, “Can you believe this shit, Butters? He tried so hard to kill me just for that Clyde guy. I didn’t even really care about him that much, I probably would have brought him back if he only asked--”

 

Craig knew he was lying through his teeth in an attempt to sound nonchalant, but it still stung. It made his hatred for the Wizard grow even more.

 

“--But even now, I  _ could  _ totally bring that dumbass back.  _ If _ , Feldspar manages to complete my quest. Don’t you think that’d be fair, Butters?”

 

“Uh, I guess?”

 

“‘ _ U-Uh, I guess? _ ’” the Grand Wizard mocked, “You’re killing me Butters, grow a fucking backbone like Feldspar here.”

 

“Uh, yes,” Butters stammered, “I think it’s a good idea.”

 

Craig could feel Wendy lightly touch his shoulder. He still really didn’t get why Wendy was rooting for him so hard after she had spent years trying to get him convicted for murder, but quickly realized that wasn’t the most important thing for him to think about.

 

“Alright then, Feldspar,” the Grand Wizard smiled at him, “Will you accept my quest? You said you’d do  _ anything _ for your friend, after all.”

 

“Yes,” Craig responded, “But aren’t you gonna tell me what it is first?”

 

“I need you to sneak into the High Elf Kingdom and steal back the Stick of Truth from that piece of shit rat High Elf King Kyle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Craig will (finally) start his quest!
> 
> I know some of you might be all "How is this a Creek fic and not a Cryde one?" The main answer and to be as vague as possible is that hopefully as this story goes along, it will eventually make plenty of sense narratively speaking. However, the short, petty answer is "because muh ship biases."
> 
> Lastly, please let me know what you think! I ESPECIALLY appreciate comments, but kudos/subs/etc also mean a lot!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up, he knew serfs were oppressed, unable to leave the village from which they were legally tied. However, it’s not like the vast majority people in the city were generally able to afford to leave this awful place, either. As it turned out, everywhere in this god awful kingdom was blatantly unjust to those who were not born with privilege. He longed for the day he would be able to leave the entire awful kingdom without looking back. He never thought the day would come because of a mission like this, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK TWO MONTHS. I was actually going to have this chapter be released to coincide with the premier of season 22, but I guess it wasn't to be. I hope to never take quite this long to update again.
> 
> I didn't proof read this as well as I probably should have, mainly because I feel like I've taken way too long to get this out. So sorry for any mistakes. However, I DID in fact go back and make little edits in previous chapters. I'll probably continue doing that.

_“What’s the city like?” Tricia asked their mother as she dropped the pieces of wood she and Craig had collected near the fire pit in the center of their house._

 

_“Which one?” she asked her daughter back, with a light laugh as she tossed in one of the larger sticks into the fire._

 

 _“You_ know _,” the little girl asked, “Kupa’s city! Our capital! A merchant that said the entire city is surrounded by the King’s house! One building! Is it true?”_

 

_She laughed, reaching for a spoon to stir the pottage in the pot above the fire. “It is. But it’s not like our little houses. It’s more like multiple towers connected by walls surrounding the city, the largest conjoined towers housing the royal family itself.”_

 

_“Why would they do that?” Tricia picked a small stick and threw it into the fire._

 

_“Protection,” she explained as she carefully slaved away on the food, “Cities and castles generally have large walls protecting them to help keep bad people out. It helps people feel safe.”_

 

 _“Why don’t_ we _have a wall then?” she asked._

 

_Their mother froze for a moment, thrown off by the question. Another moment later, she continued stirring the pot, ignoring the question completely._

  


_\---_

 

Living in the city for just a few years shy of a decade, he saw the walls of the castle almost every day. He saw knights stand at the top, armed with cannons and bow and arrows, ready to strike down anyone who dared try and impose upon the city. He knew it was also protected by a mote, full up of ghastly aquatic creatures that were said to eat a person’s limbs right off.

 

His mother was wrong, though. None of this made him feel safe. It only ever made him feel trapped. Growing up, he knew serfs were oppressed, unable to leave the village from which they were legally tied. However, it’s not like the vast majority people in the city were generally able to afford to leave this awful place, either. As it turned out, everywhere in this god awful kingdom was blatantly unjust to those who were not born with privilege. He longed for the day he would be able to leave the entire awful kingdom without looking back. He never thought the day would come because of a mission like this, however.

 

When he first heard it from the Grand Wizard, his gut instinct was to think a joke was being played on him.

 

“The Stick of Truth?” he had managed, “As in, _the_ Stick of Truth from legends?”

 

“No the _other_ Stick of Truth,” the Wizard glared at him, his voice very deadpan yet obviously sarcastic.

 

“I thought it was just a myth.” Craig knew from the past few days it was real, but based on years of habit his gut reaction as to deny it. It still felt like it _couldn’t_ actually be real.

 

“Well yeah,” the Wizard shrugged, “We can’t exactly have every ordinary nobody knowing it’s out there. Then _everyone_ would be after it. It’s better to let people think it’s some legend.”

 

“So you lie to people.”

 

“Come on,” he rolled his eyes, “Do you really think it would be good for every random person to try and get it? You don’t want it getting into the wrong hands, now do you? It’s better to let the important people like me handle it.”

 

“Then how did you lose it?”

 

“It _wasn’t_ my fault,” the Grand Wizard furrowed his eyebrows and turned slightly red at the question, “When the fat ugly High Elf Queen decided to declare war on our Kingdom, I figured she would go looking for the stick in the city, so I decided to hide it in Heatherworth. How was I to know we had a mole in our ranks that informed her I hid it in one of our podunk villages, leading her to try and burn them all down until she found it? Elves were supposed to be all about ‘ _Protecting the innocent’_ or something.”

 

Craig’s heart skipped a beat and his face grew cold as if all of the blood had rushed out of it. So that’s why his village was destroyed. The elves thought that it might be housing the Stick of Truth. He couldn’t really blame the Wizard for this, as much as he would like to. The city was also in danger from potentially housing the stick, and the Wizard obviously didn’t think his agricultural villages would be harmed. He didn’t even put Sundorham in direct danger--they were just a mistaken casualty. The High Elf Kingdom sacrificed them remorselessly in their attempts at finding a needle in a haystack. Even if they attacked them for the sake of trying to find the stick, there was no need to burn the village down. There was no need to slaughter everyone, leaving not even a single child left alive. They didn’t need to be so terribly cruel.

 

“Why do you trust me?” Craig managed to finally let out, his voice more sullen than he would have liked. He couldn’t help it. No matter how much time had passed, the wounds always felt fresh.

 

“I can only speak for myself, but it’s not that I trust you as a person. It’s that I trust that you would do anything for a friend,” Wendy piped in, “You’re a resourceful thief that quite a reputation for getting things done, even if until now it was only for the wrong reasons. I also hear that you’re outspoken about hating elves, so I don’t believe you would consider betraying us to them.” Craig straightened up when she brought up the elves. He also knew the statement about “a friend” had double meaning. Wendy was good friends with Red, and Craig had helped Bebe try to save her.

 

“Well,” Craig thought for a moment, “How do you both know _I_ wouldn’t just run off with the stick? I could use it to free Clyde myself, couldn’t I? I still don’t get what you gain by sending me. Why not go yourself?”

 

“Well, that’s easy, stupid,” the Wizard guffawed, “Only people who are capable of magic can use it. A silly little street criminal like you obviously aren’t capable of wielding it Plus, sending knights would be too obvious a declaration of war.” Craig’s eyes narrowed slightly.

 

“Also, I happened to vouch for you as well,” a voice from behind him called out. Craig looked behind him. It was Lord Marsh.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” the Wizard shrugged again, this time in an overdramatic, dismissive way, “He happened to say I should spare your life and put you to use instead. He seems to really like you for some reason. Wendy, too. I don’t get what it is about you.”

 

Craig’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted Lord Marsh, especially after he proved to know things about his mother.

 

Wendy grew mad, “I told you I _don’t--_ ”

 

“Oh shove it,” the Wizard rolled his eyes.

 

“Feldspar,” Lord Marsh looked at him seriously, “This is an extremely important mission. We’re putting a lot of faith in you.”

 

Craig looked down at his lap. His mother’s pendant underneath his shirt felt heavy against his chest.

 

“So what’s your answer?” the Wizard asked impatiently.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

\---

 

Craig was allowed some time to go back to his place to pick up some of his things. Wendy accompanied him for security reasons and to make sure he didn’t run off, of course. Thankfully, she waited outside his front door, allowing him to pack in peace, not having to deal with her unsettling presence.

 

The place had been ransacked, of course. It was only natural, given that he tried to assassinate the Wizard and all. They probably found some stolen goods, but he was already known as a thief. There wasn’t anything to incriminate him in terms of identity or having some ulterior motive. He also really didn’t have that much to pack. His original clothes and weapons were already returned to him, and he didn’t want to carry any more. Mainly just supplies that he would need to survive, like a canteen, rope, and so forth. He mainly just wanted an excuse to return to this place one more time.

 

As he turned to leave, something green got caught in the corner of his eye. He stopped and turned around. It was that silly green hat that Clyde had gotten for him. It was on the floor, peaking out from under a blanket that had also been tossed to the ground. He really didn’t need that hat. He wasn’t going to ever wear it. It would just be a waste of space. He should just go already. Craig groaned at himself. He grabbed the hat, shoving it into the satchel annoyedly. He hated how sentimental he could be sometimes.

 

“Ready to go?” Wendy asked him as he finally exited.

 

“Yeah,” he answered as he walked down the steps.

 

\---

 

Before he was to go on the mission, he was first going to go through some basic training. He thought it was dumb and pointless, but he decided to comply without a fight. He figured that if he pushed his luck too hard, he might end up back in the dungeon and on death row after all.

 

He was given a place to stay for the time being, not allowed to stay at his own home. These chambers were far better than the dungeon, but he was still for all intents and purposes locked in. Just, this time, in a spare tower room. It almost felt livable, if he could forget the fully armed knights that guarded it. He wasn't quite sure how long he was going to be there. Wendy would only answer with a curt “As long as it takes.” It was annoying, but he knew pressing someone like her would get him nowhere. He placed the few things he brought with him on the bed. It was a nicer bed than he owned, but still quite hard and a far cry from one belonging to nobility. He sighed and flopped himself on the bed. He figured that after everything, he deserved a rest.

 

“Feldspar,” a servant boy called at his doorway, interrupting his thoughts. He was a small thing, probably in his early teens at the oldest. By his clothing, Craig could also tell from his clothing that he was a very lowly servant. Typical of nobility to exploit impoverished kids for work. It make him sick.

 

“What is it?” he asked, trying to hide how annoyed and tired he was with his potential rest being interrupted to the kid.

 

“Dame Wendy Testaburger is summoning you,” he said as if he were reading from a script.

 

“For what?” he asked, annoyance more clearly in his voice. He figured the kid knew it wasn’t towards him personally.

 

“Just follow me please, sir.”

 

“How good are you at combat?” Wendy asked when they arrived. They stood in the middle of a knight training ground, herself fully armored. They didn’t have the ground to themselves, other knights around them were also practicing combat.

 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Probably not the worst, but also not the best or anything.”

 

“Alright then,” she raised an arm to signal one of her knights. It was a young man about his age wearing only soft armor. “Spar him.”

 

“Aren’t you gonna give me--”

 

“No. Use what you will have with you on your mission,” she cut him off coldly.

 

Craig sighed, pulling out the blade he stole from the knight. He was thankful that it too was returned to him--it was really better than any dull blade he ever owned. Of course, even if he could get one on the knight, he wasn’t going to try and cut him open for real, of course. The knight looked at him with a mischievous grin as he raised his longsword. He had a certain cockiness to him that Craig automatically hated.

 

“Three...Two...One...Start!,” Wendy called out.

 

Immediately, the knight lunged for him, aiming straight for his gut without any hesitation. Craig gasped, but managed to summersalt past him to the right. Not having time to catch his breath, Craig quickly stood up. Sweat had already started to pull on his forehead.  This crazy bastard was actually attacking him for the kill.

 

The knight grinned back at him even more wickedly than before. Craig clutched his blade tightly. He really _wasn’t_ the best at combat, he always did things far more through stealth. Yet, he didn’t go this far and through this much shit to die to some punk ass knight. Given that the knight was stronger and more experienced, he decided to wait for him to take the first move. Sure enough, he eventually charged for him once more, Craig this time ducking and rolling through the opposite side, trying to stab him with his knife in the process. Unfortunately, it barely nicked him. That mild cut absolutely infuriated the knight, however. Craig rolled his eyes. One of _those_ , he reckoned. All the better, really. Someone who fought in blind rage like that would be far easier to outsmart. He charged for him several more times, but Craig managed to outmaneuver him each time, even getting a few more cuts in. The knight stopped making calculated thrusts, and instead began to charge and charge with his sword at him. Despite this, his moves became more and more predictable and easier for him to dodge.

 

Finally, after Craig got enough distance the knight decided to charge, swinging for his legs. His bent down position made Craig smile. An opening. As he approached him, Craig quickly whipped his cape over and threw it over the knights head. Quickly, he jumped on the knight’s back and pulled his cape, strangling him. The knight fell over, Craig straddling his back. To cement his victory he brought his blade to the knight’s neck above the fabric.

 

“Enough!” Wendy called out. Craig shrugged, dropping the blade and getting off of him. The knight coughed but refused to look at him, clearly humiliated.

 

“Was that alright?” Craig asked, finding a smirk growing on his face. He did far better than he thought he would. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at combat after all.

 

“Your technique is awful,” was all she answered with.

 

\---

 

He was also briefed more specifically on the mission.

 

“Obviously, you’re going to have to get into the kingdom and be welcomed by them to be able to get far enough to steal the stick,” Lord Marsh explained.

 

“Don’t they hate all humans, though?” Craig asked, “I don’t get how we’re gonna fool them with that.”

 

“They hate some more than others. There are actually some humans that live among them, probably like that spy you met,” he responded, “Though yes, they hate the Kingdom of Kupa the most. However, the young new King is more inclined to seek peace between his kingdom and the rest of Zaron, perhaps even to Kupa.”

 

“Perhaps?” he raised an eyebrow.

 

“That’s really the best option we have right now,” he shrugged.

 

“So what exactly?” Craig lounged back in his seat, “You’re planning to send me as some diplomat of peace to the High Elf Kingdom and then what? Have me slip the stick from right under their nose?”

 

“Basically, yes.”

 

“And if they aren’t down for the peace business?”

 

“Well, we did say that this is a very dangerous mission, didn’t we?”

 

\---

 

As harrowing and exhausting as physical training with Wendy was and as annoying as the briefings were, he found it far better than certain other things. Specifically, the fact that it was deemed necessary for him to learn about elven culture. The idea of learning about those filth sickened him. Worst of all was having to learn basics of the language.

 

“So you see, ‘How are you?’ in their language is literally ‘Good you?’” the teacher explained. He was a nerdy young man with a lisp and greasy hair who had some odd passion for elves for some reason.

 

“Sure,” Craig said, leaning back in his chair, looking at the ceiling.

 

“So in High Elven they say ‘ _Luh lai va?’_ The ‘ _va’_ denotes a question. They actually have a word for question marks. Cool huh?”

 

“Not really,” he answered dully.

 

“W-Well, anyway,” his impromptu teacher continued anyway, “You gotta be careful. In the _Drow_ Elf dialect, instead of ‘ _va’_ they use _‘ta_ ’. Their dialect is a lot rougher sounding, almost like Barbarian. You don’t wanna use the wrong dialect to the High Elves, they’ll get really offended. I’d say don’t use the High Elf dialect towards Drow Elves, but you’re probably not going to come across them. So just don’t confuse the ‘ _va_ ’ and ‘ _ta_ ’ okay?”

 

“I would have never confused that if you hadn’t just told me it was a thing.”

 

\---

 

“How much more can you possibly brief me?” Craig asked, resting his elbows on the table, feeling as if he were about to fall asleep from absolute boredom, “Also if I have to learn one more phrase of Elvish or how I’m supposed to properly blow my nose in front of the High Elf King I’m going to fucking lose it.”

 

“Today is the last day, actually,” Lord Marsh told him, “I was actually just going to tell you that the Wizard has decided that we’re going to send you out tomorrow.”

 

“I see,” Craig said, straightening up.

 

“My wife and I wanted to invite you for dinner tonight for your last night, but the Wizard wouldn’t allow it.”

 

“Why _are_ you so nice to me?” Craig asked, “What do you get out of helping me?”

 

“I _want_ to help you,” he insisted, a slight twinge of irritation in his voice.

 

“Maybe so,” Craig crossed his arms, “But that can’t be the only reason. Helping me for returning the necklace might get me a pat on the back or help if I got caught trying to steal something, but no one would go this far after I tried to kill the Wizard no matter how priceless or sentimental the pearls are. There has to be something else.”

 

“I want you to find my son.”

 

Craig blinked. He knew the Marsh boy was dead. There were accounts of his body being found. His wife always scolded him, saying to give it up. He had quite a reputation for, despite being such a reliable figurehead in the kingdom, having such an unshakable issue with denial. To be frank, Craig didn’t care much about the whole thing. He didn’t trust the Marshes, he didn’t like not knowing how much they knew about his identity. He didn’t like any of it. Still, he helped him live and put him on a path where he could rescue Clyde.

 

“I’ll try,” was all he responded with.

 

\---

 

“Get up,” Wendy ordered him early the next morning. Craig rubbed his eyes with a yawn, but complied. “Get your things,” she continued as he stretched, “You’re leaving today.” Craig let his arms flop to his side. He knew this, Lord Marsh had told him. Still, it was an odd feeling.

 

He quickly got dressed and shoved his things into his satchel and into his pockets. He didn’t have much, so it didn’t take him very long to get ready and meet Wendy outside his room where she waited.

 

She took him down the steps of the tower and to the usual place where he ate breakfast. To his surprise, however, this time the Grand Wizard was also awaiting him, Butters standing at his side as per usual. After a moment, he decided it made enough sense. He probably had last minute things he wanted to tell him.

 

The breakfast had usually been toast and gruel, but today it was more of a feast. Bacon, eggs, ham, a baguette, and freshly squeezed juice. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had less to do with being a send off and more to do with the fact that the Wizard was eating it as well.

 

“So today’s the day,” the Wizard said as he was shoveling his face with food, “Do you think you’re ready enough to not fuck it up?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he shrugged, tearing off a piece of bread.

 

“Remember, as soon as you steal the stick, you contact me immediately and meet me in the meeting spot. You have no magic, so it’s worthless to you, and if I find any hesitation I will kill your friend before the next user would have any chance to rescue him.”

 

“Not that I was planning on it, but the Stick can’t just resurrect people?” Craig said as he swallowed, “Seems like it’s lacking something major, if it can’t do that.”

 

“It can. You can resurrect someone, so to speak,” he grinned an undeniably evil grin, “But as soon as you see their new form, you’ll wish they hadn’t been.” Craig frowned. He wondered if that’s what had happened to the princess. He’d rather not think about it while he was eating.

 

“How _am_ I supposed to contact you anyway?” he decided to change the subject instead.

 

“Glad you reminded me,” he said through a full mouth. He reached into his pocket and tossed over a dull golden brooch. It wasn’t intricate or meant to be decorative, it was more of a solid gold spherical shape that he could attach to his clothing. Craig examined it closely. It seemed to truly be solid gold, probably worth a fortune. Suddenly, it went from a dull, almost brown color to a bright, shiny yellow. He almost dropped it in surprise.

 

“I have it enchanted so it’ll glow if I wanna speak to you,” he explained, “It should respond to your voice and understand your intent if you speak into it.”

 

“Are you sure it’s not to spy on me?” he looked at it more intently. It was a magical device to both connect to and keep track of him, very similar to that of the stone in Butter’s headband. “How do I know it can’t hear me all the time?”

 

“Do you really think I’m going to waste my magic to listen to you stomping away in the forest all the time? Trust me, I have it set so I’ll _only_ have to hear your nasally voice when _you_ want me to.”

 

“That’s fair,” he decided, “But what if _I_ need to contact _you_?”

 

“You should just be able to speak into it. I have it set so I’ll get a request,” he said, “But don’t waste my time with nonsense. Only use it if you absolutely need me. Any other questions?”

 

“Nope,” Craig responded, clasping it to where his cape was tied around his neck. If anything, it made a good clasp for that.

 

“Then go on your way already,” the Wizard stood up, wiping crumbs on his sleeve, “And even if you die, please do so without embarrassing me.”

 

\---

 

Nearly ten years he had spent in this city. Ten years of the overpowering walls, making him perpetually feel more trapped than protected. Years of living in a crummy apartment, with only Clyde to keep him company. Years of seeing undeserving people executed horrifically in the town square. Years of seeing children of the poor being worked to the bone. Years of filthy living conditions for the poor, while the rich adorned themselves with all the finest things in Zaron. Adorning themselves with gems that were worth as much as would be able to feed a starving child for a year.

 

He hated this place. He absolutely hated it. He wanted nothing more than to finally be rid of it.

 

Still, as he approached the front gate with nothing more than a small amount of things he could reasonably carry, he found himself hesitating. It was odd for him to finally be leaving this place he begrudgingly called home. He wasn’t going to say he was going to miss it, but there were still some good memories there. Memories of him and Clyde mostly, but memories nonetheless.

 

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Clyde while he focused on training. It hurt him too much. Not to mention, the conflicted feelings of the fact that Kupa Keep where who put Clyde in this situation in the first place wouldn’t have exactly helped his resolve to train under them.

 

“I’m going to help you, Clyde,” he said, “No matter what.”

 

With that, he approached the gatekeeper with his pass to leave the city. The gatekeeper glanced at it for a moment and then went to lower the gate.

 

Without looking back, Craig left the city behind him.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Comments/kudos/subs are all greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Tweek is within reach now...


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it has taken me over three months to update this! I'm sorry for the wait, I've kind of just fallen into Banana Fish purgatory recently. Still, I finally got around to spending more time on this. I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar/syntax errors.

Craig hadn’t originally intended for this life. Even after he arrived in Kupa City, he never expected to become some underworld criminal. Back in the day, when he started stealing out of desperation, he never expected to garner the reputation that he ended up having.

 

It really was out of desperation. Even when Clyde got a paying jobs in a shops, it wasn’t nearly enough. They always barely had enough to eat. They spent cold nights sleeping on dirty side streets or hiding in animal pens. Originally they tried to sleep in Clyde’s shop, but he was ultimately fired for it, taking him weeks to find a new merchant to take him. In turn, Craig would slide a bit of bread or a couple bunches of fruit from the market. He continued this even when Clyde was working again, to put a little money aside so that they would one day no longer be homeless. The less money they required to spend on food, the more money they had to put aside. Yet even still, he only ever stole what they needed.

 

Things only changed when Clyde fell very ill. At first Craig thought his hypochondriac friend was overreacting like usual, but it had become clear that he was only getting worse and worse. He desperately needed a doctor and medication, but even the meager amount they had set aside to spend on such treatments wouldn’t be nearly enough.

 

It pained him that the wealthy in the town square would shamelessly flaunt their expensive clothes and fine jewels while turning up their nose on starving, dying children on the street. Just one of the pearls on just one of their necklaces, just one gemstone from their large, intricate brooches,  _ any  _ of it would be enough to help Clyde and then some. Because of that, he didn’t feel any remorse the first time he subtly cut a beaded bracelet from a woman’s wrist in a crowded alley. He feared what the pawn shop owner would say when he presented it, perhaps accusing him of stealing it, but he soon found out that the pawn shop owner couldn’t care less where anything came from.

 

The wealthy didn’t need nor deserve their luxuries, while in turn theft brought Clyde and him perhaps not a life of luxuries themselves, but a life that was comfortable enough. Theft brought them a roof over their head and food to eat. Things that Clyde’s “legitimate” job wouldn’t be able to provide. It also helped them feel as if they were sticking their noses to the nobles.

 

He never expected back then that all of this would lead him to stealing the most powerful object in existence from the only kingdom he hated more than Kupa.

 

It was going to be a long journey. The trek to the High Elf Kingdom was much further than that of the one Clyde and him trekked from Sundorham all those years ago. Of course, back then they got terribly lost and wandered longer than it would have taken if they had proper navigation. This time, Craig had a proper map and compass to guide him. He had emergency contact systems. Proper supplies. The hardships he faced then were essentially rectified.

 

Still, it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that much. 

 

The first part was easy enough, at least. He simply had to follow the main road that connected the city and the major villages of Kupa. After about a couple days or so, he would have to head north from the very end of the road. From there, to say the journey would become more dangerous would be an extreme understatement. He would be entering the Lost Forest, Barbarian territory, meaning he would have to tread lightly in hopes of not being seen. If he manages to make it out of their forests without being struck down by a dozen arrows, or for that matter any of the beasts or fauna, he would cross through a smaller civilized human kingdom the base of the mountain. It would be a break at least, as it was known for being hospitable enough. Extremely isolated, but still friendly. The steep, frigid mountains themselves would be a whole other story entirely. Not to mention, the mountains acted like a natural border between human and elf territories, meaning he would likely have to dodge other, more nomadic wood elves. Worst case scenario, he might even have to dodge Drow elves.

 

All of this  _ before  _ convincing the High Elves to let him into their Kingdom and get close enough to steal the stick. Convincing them to not just kill him on the spot could be a real challenge. He wasn’t sure exactly how to tackle this issue, so he decided to focus more of his attention on getting there for the time being. Sure, his training at Kupa presented him with how they wanted him to be--that he was a human olive branch to try and reconcile the two kingdoms’ differences. Knowing the two kingdoms’ relationship, he somehow doubted that would actually work. He sighed. At least he had a long time to think about it.

 

The initial leg of his journey would be incredibly boring to most people, but he found himself quite enjoying it. He liked walking for long periods of time. It always helped him clear his head and release any pent up energy or anger. It was a lot easier in Sundorham, where it was less crowded with people, allowing him to get lost in himself without worrying about bumping into others or getting hit by a carriage. Though of course back then he had to worry about accidentally wandering too far and leaving the village proper--something that could have gotten him in serious legal trouble back then if he got caught by a knight on patrol.

 

Now, on the other hand, he had a long winding road that seemingly went on forever all to himself. He could go hours without passing another person. Part of it reminded him of the desperate feeling he felt with Clyde all those years ago when they once traveled on the same road, hoping to find sanctuary. He tried his best to not dwell on it.

 

Late in the afternoon, he came across a village. Golden Glen was known for being one of the more affluent places in Kupa, conveniently because it was mere hours from the city. He received some currency of various lands he was expected to travel through, of course including Kupa’s own currency he could spend there. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to pay to stay there for the night, even if it would be on the pricier side. 

 

As soon as he entered the village he found himself pissed off. It was a peasant village so to speak, but the people there were not serfs. They were also farmers, but they had their own land and could work on it however they wished. They couldn’t move away without permission, but they were able to easily get permits to leave and go on holiday, unlike serfs who were tied to the land from birth to death.

 

It was also objectively much nicer to look at. The houses were more in line with those from the city, not the flimsy thatch houses that he had been forced to live in and repair frequently. Animals had their own separate barns and stables, not kept within the same small houses as their caretakers.  _ They  _ wouldn’t have to deal with a farm animal licking their ear in the middle of the night.

 

Still, he entered the village with his mouth shut, doing his best to ignore his thoughts as he presented his permit to the knights guarding the village, allowing him to enter. He didn’t care enough to look at the village, but instead wandered straight to the inn. It was already getting dark, and knew it was a bustling place, so he wasn’t entirely sure if they’d even have room. Honestly, at this point it wouldn’t be the worst notion in the world to sleep outside the village in a field or something. Still, he was going to be spending a lot of time sleeping outdoors, so he decided to take a shot anyway.

 

When he entered the large three story building, it was far more “bustling” than he expected. In the pub, there was loud music playing and people dancing jovally all around. Men and women danced in a line, the women’s colorful skirts drifting about. A good number of them appeared to be tavern girls themselves, doing some sort “fanservice” he figured. He looked around and saw in the corner some men playing some instruments, tapping their feet enthusiastically. It was certainly very much unlike the inn in Sundorham or the taverns he frequented in Kupa City. He felt like a fish out of water.

 

As tried to examine the overwhelming setting, he nearly got run over by a black haired tavern girl carrying two large steins in each hand, though he quickly dodged. She apologized, a bi overly so in an exaggerated cutesy voice, but Craig in return awkwardly nodded. He was never really good at that sort of human interaction. 

 

“We’re busy today, but there’s a spare seat at the bar,” the black haired girl told him as she was about to continue delivering her drinks to the waiting customers, “Someone will be right with you to help you, okay?” She winked and continued on, while all he could respond with was his awkward nod again. He shrugged it off headed to the spare seat with his head low, dodging dancing couples on the way.

 

“How can I help you, hon?” another girl from behind the bar grinned overly friendly at him. She had red hair. His heart skipped a beat as she immediately reminded him of Red, even if it was more of an orange shade compared to Red’s bright...well, red. He looked at her for a few more seconds, hinging on an awkward amount, and let out a breath. Her facial structure and demeanor was also nothing like Red. 

 

The tavern girls here also wore skirts that were only to above their knees and with low cut necklines in the front to show a lot more cleavage than Red’s dress did. It didn’t bother him, not because he was  _ into  _ that, because he wasn’t. Truth be told, he was really interested in women in general. He figured it probably worked on other people to get them tips and being a hustler himself he couldn’t blame them.

 

“Actually, I wanted to see if you still had any spare rooms or beds for the night,” Craig answered as loud as he could over the music and chatter. The girl gave him a grin and stare that went straight to his spine.

 

“Well, as you see we’re  _ awfully  _ crowded tonight,” she tilted back her head and gave him a wink, “But you know,  _ my _ room has some extra space.”

 

“Not interested,” he responded bluntly. The girl’s expression dropped for a second, but then as if by practice and experience, immediately went back to her previous eternally flirty customer service expression.

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she smiled, “We might have space in our shared rooms. In the meantime, can I get you something?”

 

“Just a beer,” he shrugged. She quickly poured him a stein from the bar and handed it over to him, before wandering off to the crowd.

 

He didn’t mean to be cold to the girl, but he really didn’t have the patience to play along. He wondered if he gave her the wrong impression by staring at her that awkward length of time, but then realized he didn’t really care. He was widely considered quite attractive, or so he was told, causing him to get advances from girls all the time. Despite this, not a single one of the girls who threw themselves on him ever appealed to him. Early on, Clyde hounded him for turning down girls that Clyde himself viewed as gorgeous. He also hounded him even more for turning down wealthy girls Clyde figured they could get profit from. Craig figured that would be incredibly annoying, and not worth the effort. He’d rather just steal the old fashioned way.

 

He figured he just didn’t have any sort of attraction to women. It was whatever. He put his elbows on the bar and took a drink of his beer, zoning out the loud music and chatter surrounding him while he waited for her to return.

 

“Well,” she said as she went back over the bar to face him, “We don’t have any private rooms or beds, but you’re in luck. Someone’s wife just dragged a patron home, so we have an extra space in our shared beds. Should I give it to you?”

 

“Sure,” he shrugged, wiping the beer on his mouth with his sleeve. It was decently pricey, but it was the Wizard’s money anyway. Beats sleeping outside, he figured. 

 

It turned out he figured wrong. He was squeezed in between two sweaty, drunk men on a bed that was less comfortable than his one back in Kupa City. There were loud snores from this overly crowded room and sounds of women moaning loudly and overdramatically through the walls. There was chatter from those drunk trying to find their way to their sleeping spot, followed by other patrons telling them to shut up. The person to the left of him elbowed him in his sleep so hard he figured his ribs might have a bruise in the morning. He considered himself grateful that he got any sleep at all.

 

He left just at sunrise. He would have left earlier, but he wanted to wait until the village had awakened for him to get a decent breakfast and some last minute supplies that the Wizard and company didn’t provide. Little things, like extra cloth and sewing materials to mend his clothes if they seriously tore, some extra fishing line, a few bits of food that wouldn’t spoil or take up too much space. Normally he would just steal these things but, once again, the Wizard’s money. He couldn’t guarantee that he would find another village like Golden Glen that would be this welcoming to someone like him for the rest of his travels, so he figured he should take advantage of that before his journey truly begins.

 

He was surprised that the feeling of leaving Golden Glen behind was almost as impactful as leaving the gates of Kupa City, even if he had never been to this village before. There were a few poor villages akin to Sundorham that he could theoretically go through in Kupa if he was desperate, but this really was where he would be on his own the rest of the way.

 

Kupa being the size it was, he was able to continue on down the road as he was a couple more days. There were rarely bandits in Kupa that he would have to worry about. The Wizard was an oppressive dick, but one thing he was good at was keeping the roadways connecting the parts of the country safe. Only a few asshole knights that would ask him about his paperwork bothered him. They probably  _ would _ have been like bandits, demanding compensation to allow him to pass, but once he showed that he was on official business from the Grand Wizard himself, they immediately gave it up and let him pass with a bow and no further questions. 

 

It reminded him of his journey with Clyde all those years ago. Now he was supplied and knew exactly where he was going, making this trek through Kupa much easier. Still, he could still hear Clyde’s sniffles and complaints as he looked at the flat plains of the kingdom as he trekked on.

 

He decided to go out of his way to visit a village off the road on what would be his last day in Kupa. It was a considerable detour and one he could get little out of strategically, but a gut instinct told him he would regret not taking it.

 

It was a small serf village. One that he had also obviously never been to nor heard spoken much about, but it was there on his map. Apparently it was very small, even smaller than Sundorham had been, but he figured the layout and way of life would be more or less the same. 

 

He could never go back to Sundorham. Even to visit the ruins, it was completely off his current journey’s path. He wasn’t sure if he really would  _ want _ to see what remained either. Would there still be the charr of the village in the ground? Would there still be evidence of buildings once standing there? Would there be arrows still littering the ground? He doubted the Wizard would want the effort spent cleaning it up.

 

Or would it have all eroded away all on its own? Could it be that grass grew over what had burned? Would it be as if nothing had ever been there at all, as if all the lives lived and lost never existed in the first place?

 

His chest was tight, and he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He grasped his chest and sat on the ground for a minute, trying to take in deep breaths and calm his shaking hands as he attempted to take a drink of water. He hated when this happened.

 

When he managed to calm, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath again. No, he couldn’t see Sundorham again. He was never going to be able to say goodbye or get the closure he wanted. Still, he figured this could be the next best thing.

 

He had always figured that Sundorham was the lowest of the low. There was an atrocious standard of living and the people there were treated as less than dirt. The fact that the entire village was wiped off the map was barely a mild inconvenience to Kupa City. However, as he made his trek to this other serf village, he realized that he figured wrong.

 

As he had known before, it was in fact smaller than Sundorham by a decent amount. There were only a handful of buildings, all of which were similar thatch houses to that of Sundorham, but looked to be in far worse condition and all near falling apart. 

 

Part of him wondered if this was just a culture shock, as he had grown accustomed to the better conditions of city life. He realized that although that fact didn’t help his shock, it couldn’t be. In Sundorham, everyone kept themselves as clean as possible after work, wiping all the mud and dirt from them. Sure, dirty by many standards, but attempts were still made. Here, everyone was caked in mud. Clyde’s slightly more colorful clothing stood out, but the amount of dirt and grime that covered these people’s clothes, he couldn’t tell if the fabric was originally brown to begin with. Even the animals roaming around were muddy.

 

In Sundorham, there was grass with quite pretty wildflowers growing most of the year that Tricia loved to pick and put in her hair and clothes. Sure, not as grand and beautiful as ones from the royal garden, but pretty nonetheless. Tricia would make flower crowns with them and put them in their mother’s hair. Once she even put one on Craig as he slept in the field. He awoke to Clyde laughing, promptly leading him to angrily chase after his sister. Here, there was none of that. No grass, no flowers, only mud. Even the fields of farmland surrounding seemed mostly dead and muddy.

 

Every inch of this village felt covered in mud. It was as if mud was the most defining point of it. Not to mention, it  _ smelled _ .

 

“What’re you doin’ here?” a very thin villager asked. It was a blunt and direct question that wasn’t exactly hospitable, but it wasn’t explicitly rude or accusatory either. She also had a distinct accent that he had rarely heard before. The other villagers came out, and stared at him inquisitively.

 

“Um, well,” he stammered, thrown off by the reality of this village, “I’m traveling on behalf of Kupa City, and was hoping you had an inn or something I could stay in for the night before I go about my way.”

 

“There’s no inn here,” she told him in the same off tone. He should have guessed as much. None of the buildings here looked anything other than residential. He also doubted many people would go out of their way to visit such an off the beaten path village such as this. Perhaps on very rare occasions merchants might come through, but by the small amount of things he was carrying, it was clear he wasn’t one.

 

“Well, is there any place I can stay for the night?” he asked, looking around at the other wide eyed villagers, “I have money--”

 

“What good is yer city money here?” a man interjected. He sounded far more accusatory. 

 

Of course. He was a clean, well dressed young man traveling freely through Kupa unannounced. This was a village that had no visitors to the extent they hadn’t even an inn. Craig had never trusted outsiders when he lived in Sundorham and always hated those with wealth, so he didn’t blame them for not trusting him. It was especially a mistake for him to say he was traveling on behalf of the City, a place they would almost definitely despise as much as he did.

 

“Listen,” he started. He knew he shouldn’t say what he wanted to say. It would be incredibly risky, and he didn’t know if the people here were desperate enough to sell him out. Still, his heart told him to take the risk.

 

“We’re listenin’,” the woman continued as he paused.

 

Craig took a deep breath, “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I came here because I want to help you. Yes, I’m traveling on behalf of the City, on behalf of the Wizard, but I promise you that I despise them as much as you do, if not more.”

 

“What could  _ you  _ know about what we go through? What could  _ anyone _ from the city know about what we’ve been through?” another woman spoke up. She was much younger, but still somehow haggard.

 

“I’m not originally from the city,” Craig looked her straight in the eye, “I’m a survivor from Sundorham.”

 

“That ain’t possible! We  _ all  _ know it was totally destroyed, it’s part of why the knights took more and more from us to make up the difference.  _ No one  _ from there got away, and if you did you’d be forced to work the fields here, not goin’ around on  _ official business _ .”

 

“My best friend and I were at the edge of the village when it happened,” Craig closed his eyes as the visions of it all came back, “We saw the arrows from the other side of the horizon, and ran away as quickly as we could. My mom was going to go find my little sister and come with us, but she...didn’t. All we could do was run and run and run, not knowing if we’d starve to death trying to find another living person. We were able to eventually find the city and created fake identities for ourselves and were able to start over. I am incredibly lucky, but understand that I still know the harsh realities of Zaron more than anyone.”

 

“Where’s the proof? Sounds like some sorta trick,” the man accused.

 

“Why would he lie?” a young girl, probably his daughter, asked. She was approximately the age Tricia had been, “He could get in awful trouble for lyin’. He’s puttin’ a lot of trust in us, I think.” Her mother hushed her.

 

“You’re not wrong to not trust me,” Craig admitted, “But I’m telling you because I know what it’s like to be fucked over by those assholes. Even getting into the city and the two of us trying to build a life together we were  _ still _ fucked over. My best friend was banished by the Wizard for next to nothing and the only reason I’m on this journey is that I’m doing this to save his life. I don’t know if I can succeed, but if I do I’ll have saved him and will do something that will bring change to Zaron. I couldn’t do anything about my own village but...but if I am able to succeed, I will do everything in my power to help all the other serfs, starting with here.”

 

Craig wasn’t even that aware of what he was saying as it came out of his mouth. His plan had always been to help Clyde. He hadn’t planned on doing anything about helping the serfs, and he wasn’t even entirely sure that he would have the say or power to do so. Still, standing in this village, looking at these people who had it worse than he ever did, the astounding resolve overcame him.

 

This would also mean he had far more riding on this. That was sure a pain.

 

“If yer lyin’ to us,” the first woman said, “That’d hafta be one of the cruelest things anyone could ever do. But…” she paused, “If yer tellin’ the truth...We welcome you.” Craig felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile.

 

“So, um...I can stay the night?” he clarified.

 

“You can stay with my son,” she gestured to the outspoken man from before with the little girl, “Their own son….passed last winter, so they got the space.” Craig expected the man to protest, but he nodded towards his mother. He quickly came to understand that she was the unquestioned figurehead of this village. The little girl jumped for joy, running to grab Craig’s hand.

 

They had pottage for dinner in their thatch house, which was incredibly nostalgic. His mom’s pottage was better, but it still reminded him of her in a way that him feel a lump in his throat. He also knew that in a village like this, food rationings were run thin, so he was grateful they offered in the first place to feed him as well.

 

The little girl hounded him with a ton of questions. She was incredibly dirty, but beneath all of that she really was no different than any little girl anywhere. Beneath the grease and mud, he could tell she had corn yellow hair and deep dimples when she smiled her crooked tooth grin.

 

“What’s the city like?” her sky blue eyes glowed, “Have you met the princess? Is she  _ really  _ as purty as they say? Is it true she has a billion dresses she wears around her garden?”

 

“Hush child, yer gonna drive him crazy,” her father scolded.

 

“It’s fine,” he told him. “The city is very different from that of villages like ours. It’s true, it’s full of pretty princesses and beautiful gardens. Buildings are taller and better built, but not everyone can afford to live in them. There are people there just as poor and hungry as us.”

 

The girl’s eyes were glossy as it was made impeccably clear she absolutely did not care about Craig’s issues with class status in the Kingdom of Kupa Keep. He paused and thought for a moment.

 

“But yeah...Princess Kenny is, um...really pretty. I met her once. She had, uh...a beautiful, grand bedroom full of...um, all sorts of nice... _ princessy _ things I’m sure you’d love. I don’t know about a  _ billion _ dresses but she had a nice purple one when I saw her.”

 

The girl’s eyes absolutely glowed. She jumped up and ran to the other side of their small house, probably to use that as fodder for her imagination. Of course, he was leaving out the part where Princess Kenny was a cursed corpse when he met her, and of course he had always thought that these fantasies were harmful to Tricia back in the day, that she should have just accepted that she was never going to be able to live that life.

 

But as he saw the dirty, thin little girl with greasy hair and crooked teeth spin around in her rags, pretending to be the princess, something in him changed.

 

He left the village early the next morning. He left behind some of his extra cloth and food he had with him in attempts to compensate them for their kindness. The little girl came to hug him tightly as he said his goodbyes, and while he was never one for hugs, he found himself lightly patting her shoulder.

 

It took him awhile to make it back to the main road, but retracing his steps made it quicker than the time it took to get there. Nonetheless, due to his little detour, he was slightly behind the estimated schedule. He was told to make contact once he reached the edge of the kingdom, so he knew he should hurry it up as he was being waited for. Until then, he had kept contact devices safely turned off.  He wandered down the road to the same repetitive flat prairie scenery, starting to wonder if the kingdom was  _ ever _ going to end.

 

As soon as he grew impatient, however, he noticed a change upon the horizon. He kept his pace as to not tire himself, but gradually saw it grow and grow until eventually he could see what it was. Sure enough, it was the Lost Forest--the wide, dense, and quite dangerous forest that acted as a natural barrier to mark the end of the Kingdom of Kupa Keep. 

 

Normally, it was considered suicide for a civilized human to try to trek across the Lost Forest alone. Knights stood at the end of the road to prevent people from even attempting it. To be fair, there was very little reason  _ to  _ go, to the north was only the small mountain kingdom on the other side. From there, if one was able to navigate the steep mountains, was only elven territory. When people  _ did _ go, it was often for diplomatic purposes with a battalion of knights to protect them. As the Marsh family showed, even that level of protection often proved fruitless.

 

Still, it wasn’t exactly like Craig had any other choice. He would have died anyway, but at least now he had a chance. Or something like that. It wasn’t like he was afraid of death and he knew he was far more likely to survive than the average person. Still, he knew going through it would be quite a pain in the ass, so he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. He sighed as he finally approached the battalion of bored knights at the end of the road.

 

“Are you Feldspar?” one asked in an uninterested tone for him.

 

“I am,” he said, reaching for his exit permit in one of his satchels.

 

The guard snatched it from him and looked at it uninterestedly. He sighed and handed it back. “You’re free to go.”

 

“Okay,” he responded as he took it back from him. He didn’t really blame the knights for their lack of interest. Being posted all the way out here to see other living beings come by perhaps once every few weeks must be an annoying job. The knights moved from their guarding stance to let him pass.

 

Craig paused for a moment as he began to walk past them. He couldn’t help but turn around and look behind him, back on the ugly, plain, boring fields of nothing that made up most of Kupa. He hated it and everything it represented. But still…

 

“Are you going or not?” another knight interrupted his thoughts in an irritated manner.

 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Craig frowned, turning his head back around, “Jeez, you guys don’t have to be such assholes. It’s not like you people at this shitty post don’t have all day.”

 

With that, he turned back around, and went through the small, sorta-pathway where the road ended and forest began. There was no road, but it was traveled enough that there were some sorts of trails and pathways for him to take at least. Sure, traveling them made him a bigger target, but he figured it was best to not get totally lost, which was supposedly extremely easy. It was called the  _ Lost  _ Forest for a reason, he figured.

 

Still, he sighed and tried to get his bearings. This was where the journey  _ really _ began after all.

 

He had now entered Barbarian Territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess the subtle and less subtle cameos/references? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Hopefully the next chapter will come far quicker.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all happened too fast for Craig to know what hit him.
> 
> One second he was minding his own business filling up his canteen and the next moment he was completely flipped over and pinned down on his back. The force against the back of his head hitting the ground hurt the worst, making him initially fear that he cracked his skull that was only barely padded by his hat. Something was on top of him, and if he didn’t want to die, he had to figure out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually updated within a month this time! Hooray? 
> 
> So Tweek is very hard for me to characterize in this. I have notes on this, but I'm going to put them in the end notes.

_ “What was it like traveling Zaron? Was being a merchant exciting? Do you miss it?” Tricia asked among a long series of questions to Clyde with bright, wide eyes. They eating were honey covered bread by the river, packed for them all by her mother--a real treat. It was the Spring Solstice, an important holiday to the people of Kupa. Particularly, it meant they had the day off. _

 

_ “Don’t bother him with dumb questions,” Craig shoved his sister lightly, yet hard enough as to nearly push her off the boulder she sat upon. Clyde himself paused, as if genuinely unsure how to answer. As if he never expected to be asked that question. Craig, on the other hand, wished he could spend the day with his friend without being bothered by everyone else. His mother had forced him to bring Tricia along. _

 

_ “I don’t see how it’s dumb,” she scowled, placing her bread on her lap to cross her arms defiantly. “I think it’s normal to ask people about themselves. You and I have only lived in this boring old place, so I think it’s normal to want to know how others live.” _

 

_ “Well maybe it’s none of your--” _

 

_ “It’s okay,” Clyde cut him off, “I can tell her if she wants.” _

 

_ “See?” she stuck her tongue out at her brother. Craig glared at his friend for not backing him up, but Clyde merely finished the rest of his bread before reaching his hands into the running river water to get the stickiness off. He sat for a moment, fully deciding what he should say. _

 

_ “Um,” Clyde pondered, “So, what specifically did you wanna hear? Like, give me one question at a time.” _

 

_ “Hmm,” she licked her fingers deep in thought, “How about...Why were you a merchant? What determines that anyway? Were both your parents merchants?” _

 

_ “Tricia, that’s more than one question,” Craig rolled his eyes. _

 

_ “No, I got it,” Clyde responded, “Merchants are merchants basically like how serfs are serfs. My dad was born in the merchant class of Kupa Keep and so was his dad and his dad. It’s what he was trained to do, what I was gonna be trained to do. I would have been a merchant my whole life and been expected to marry someone in the merchant class from Kupa to have merchant children. I could have chosen to travel like my dad or work for a permanent shop, but that’s about it. Only the luckiest merchants own their own permanent shop, usually they’re owned by nobility. So maybe it’s kind of like being a serf or farmer, only there’s a little more free will, I guess.” _

 

_ “Was your mom a merchant too?” _

 

_ “Tricia, don’t ask him about his--” _

 

_ “Nah, she wasn’t,” he shrugged, yet his face fell as if he was reminded of a sad memory. “She wasn’t from Kupa, either. She was from another kingdom my dad happened to be traveling through.” _

 

_ “Oh, like our mom!” Tricia exclaimed. _

 

_ “No,” Craig said for his friend solemnly, having heard the story before, “Both our parents are from Kupa. It was controversial, but she was marrying down within her kingdom.  But unless it’s a royal political marriage, marrying or even being with someone not from the same kingdom is strictly forbidden in most of Zaron. Especially in Kupa.” _

 

_ “Yeah, but my mom. She didn’t care,” Clyde found himself laughing sadly at the thought, “She decided that she liked my dad and was gonna have him no matter what.” _

 

_ “And they ended up together and had you!” Tricia smiled. _

 

_ “And my older sister.” _

 

_ “You have a sister?” Tricia gasped, “Where is she!” _

_   
_ _ “Tricia!” Craig scolded. _

 

_ “She was...taken. I don’t know where, but it probably doesn’t matter. She’s probably dead now, anyway.”  _

 

_ “I’m sorry, I didn’t know--” _

 

_ “Because it’s dangerous, Tricia,” Craig looked her in the eyes, “You can’t tell anyone this. For his safety.” _

 

_ “Yeah, but it’s not  _ that _ drastic anymore,” Clyde shrugged, “My dad used his real name and presented me as his son. We’re laying low, but if they wanted me dead I’d be dead. I don’t think they care anymore.” _

 

_ Tricia’s eyes widened. “Because your parents aren’t together anymore? Because your mom was killed in an accident?”  _

 

_ “Sure, an  _ ‘accident’.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was odd being out of Kupa. 

 

He had been in forests before. In fact, there was a very small one that naturally grew around the river near Sundorham. It was always a nice place, away from the nearly oppressive flatness that was everything else around him. Still, it was...very small. Arguably not even a forest, they probably only called it that because no one had a better frame of reference. It was just a place where trees were able to grow naturally due to the convenient water supply. It allowed Sundorham fresh water, fish, wood, wildberries, and other supplies. In hindsight, he wondered if that was partially what led them to be comparatively better off than the other serf village he just visited.

 

This, on the other hand, was completely different. The few trees that were easily navigable back home were nothing like what felt like a wall of them he was now facing. Between the thick trees there were shrubs and thorns that would make it exceedingly difficult for him to wander off the path like he had previously considered. The trees were also far taller than any he had ever come across, nearly blocking out all of the sunlight.

 

Even a few paces in, he could already  _ feel _ that he wasn't in Kupa anymore. Not just Kupa, but almost as if he was in a completely different universe, outside of Zaron completely. He had seen his fair share of flora, especially in the royal garden, but nothing like whatever all this was.

 

He tried to clear his mind and remind himself that he was on a mission. It was just a forest, not to mention one where he would have to be on his toes to not get himself killed. He had to focus on the surroundings in terms of staying away from danger, not in terms of exploring. Those glowing green bulbs on the shrubs? Not worth examining, and probably poisonous. The odd flickering lights that floated about in various colors? Probably just some weird insect that would soon give him a lot of obnoxious, itchy bites. The odd, hauntingly beautiful howling of the wind? Well, just the wind. Stay on target. No time for having some fantastical sense of awe and wonder over useless bullshit.

 

Still. It was a very eerie, almost nostalgic feeling. He clutched his mother’s necklace tightly for a moment. Maybe this feeling was part of the forest’s nature, he figured. Maybe that’s why people get lost and go mad so easily. Maybe that’s why the humans who lived here became, as their namesake implied, barbaric. Well, he knew better than to fall for that. He wouldn’t be charmed by some weird, bullshit enchanted forest. Not him. He was the alert underworld thief Feldspar, afterall.

 

As soon as he told himself how alert he was, he immediately felt something hard fly into his face. At first he figured it was a large fly or something, but it felt too hard for that. He reached for his cheek and scooped it up into his hand.

 

It was a glowing, humanlike creature with a tiny pair of wings, no larger than an inch in size.

 

A fairy? No, no fairies were closer to humans than this thing. They weren’t this small and didn’t glow like this. This tiny creature was also without clothes, while fairies were known to be elegantly dressed, almost like elves. So a pixie then? That seemed about right, they were known for being little pests who swarmed around like bugs. It did look oddly buglike, with huge black eyes relative for its body and spiky short hair that almost looked like vines coming out of its head. The pixie shook its head from the impact and fluttered its wings, rising itself from Craig’s hand. It fluttered around Craig’s head curiouslyfor a moment.

 

Craig swatted the pest away and continued to go down the path. He didn’t have time for this.

 

He knew to most people in Kupa seeing a pixie would be a big deal. Actually,  _ any  _ creature like that would be an excitement. Yet to him, he had only heard that picture were annoying, unintelligent pests. Clyde had even said so, as he’d seen some back in his days of travel. Much of Kupa glamorized the idea of magical creatures.

 

Afterall, any magical creature was banned from Kupa. Any dealings with nonhuman kingdoms rarely had them visit Kupa itself--generally they would meet in their lands or in neutral territory. Which made sense, given that the Wizard was harsh and thorough to put the hammer down on any magical  _ humans _ that weren’t beneficial to him personally. For that reason, people in Kupa had an obsession over magical things, even if they had to keep it to themselves to avoid accusations of treason. A sort of treason Craig never had to worry about, as he never saw the appeal.

 

After a few minutes, he thought that maybe it wasn’t that the forest was specifically enchanted to make people feel odd. Maybe it was being around so much magical energy in general. Magical energy that that would be instantly be smothered out in Kupa, now being allowed to flow freely, overwhelming to those not used to it. He sighed. It didn’t really matter. He just had to stay focused.

 

It was as if time passed differently there as well. He wasn’t sure how long he was walking before he realized it was suddenly getting dark very quickly. He decided that he would be most vulnerable while asleep, meaning he should find a secure, hidden place off of the main path to rest. He wasn’t going to set up camp or start any fires, he needed to be as concealed and lowkey as possible.

 

He felt thorns poking at him as he tried to wander through the brush, hoping that none of them were laced with some sort of poison. He also made sure he kept track of each of his steps and avoided going to far to prevent himself from getting lost and being unable to find his way back to the main path. He also had to keep on his toes to make sure he didn’t come across any hostile creature...or worse. It was a pain to keep track of all these things, but not exactly hard for him given his past experiences.

 

Just as it was about to get completely pitch black dark, he found a hollowed out tree. He examined it carefully and saw that it was full of dirt and wouldn’t be the most comfortable fit, but that it would work. He plopped himself down beside it and took out a piece of bread and cheese from his satchel. It was among his most perishable food he had with him, so he best eat it now. He ate it, took a swig of water, and went into the log. It wasn’t comfortable, just as he thought, but he was able to fall asleep just fine after he got used to the howling wind and odd, unsettling sounds of the Lost Forest at night.

 

\---

 

He awoke with the rising sun. It actually surprised him somewhat that it was bright enough to do so, given how much of it was blocked out by the foliage. He pushed himself out of the log with a sigh. He made it through the night with all of his things unharmed. As he ate a bit for breakfast, he pondered that this was far easier than he anticipated. He examined the scratches on him and noted that none of them appeared to be in any way infected.

 

Maybe the rumors about the Lost Forest were greatly exaggerated. As he got up to go about his way he took a drink of water. His supply was getting low--he would have to keep his eyes and ears open for a water source at some point. As green and full of life as this forest was, it probably shouldn’t be too hard.

 

He made it back to the main pathway moderately easily. He did worry himself slightly for a moment as the shrubs did appear to look different from before. He had worried that the rumors about the Lost Forest changing mysteriously were true, rendering him lost. Then he decided to stop worrying about it. If the landscape changed, then so be it. He remembered the number of steps he took in each direction, he didn’t need to rely on visual cues. It worked, and soon enough he made it back to the main pathway. Comparing the path to the the direction of the sun, he knew that it was facing the right direction, and carried on about his way.

 

He went down the path the exact same way he did the previous day, only this time with more open ears to try and listen for any sort of running water. It had become easier for him to ignore the strangeness of the forest, to suppress the odd nagging feeling within him.

 

Realizing he had suppressed the nagging feeling only made him take notice of it again. That was annoying.

 

As if interrupting his thoughts, he suddenly heard a faint sound of running water. It had to be a river or stream of some sort!

 

He looked towards where the sound was coming from. The plant life here was especially thick, which was bound to be annoying to try and traverse. Still, he didn’t know which way it flowed relative to the path, so he was just as well trying to get to it now. He started to navigate towards it as best he could, following the sounds while also taking mind of the way he was going to find his way back. As the sound of flowing water got louder, he knew it couldn’t be far. It made him relieved, being close to the main path meant he didn’t have to mind his was as much.

 

Just a little further, it opened up to a nice little stream with a decently wide river bank for him to sit down at. He plopped down The water was crystal clear with some fish swimming down it. He debated whether he should try to catch some to eat later, wondering if the fire he’d need to prepare them would be worth the risk.

 

He heard a snap of some twigs behind him. He quickly stood up and unsheathed his blade, fully alert.

 

Nothing.

 

He wandered a little closer and used his blade to pull back some of the vines and branches. Still nothing. He waited a few more moments on alert and hesitantly put his blade back. It might have been a pixie or a small animal or something. He sighed, letting his guard down, and reached for his canteen. He drank what was left in it to allow maximum space and held it to the water, allowing the current to flow into it. Then there was another snap.

 

From then, it all happened too fast for Craig to know what hit him.

 

One second he was minding his own business filling up his canteen and the next moment he was completely flipped over and pinned down on his back. The force against the back of his head hitting the ground hurt the worst, making him initially fear that he cracked his skull that was only barely padded by his hat. His ears rung and his vision was incredibly blurry. He tried to force himself to breathe and feel himself out. He determined that he didn’t crack his skull, but a concussion was very much a possibility.

 

He only then realized he couldn’t move his body. His right arm was pinned under his back, crushed by the force of his own body weight. His other arm, along with his torso, were pinned down by  _ something _ . He closed his eyes tight and opened them once more. He slowly blinked to rid himself of the stars in his vision and get his eyes to focus.  _ Something _ was on top of him, and if he didn’t want to die, he had to figure out what it was. Gradually, his vision regained its focus, allowing him to view the figure on top of him.

 

It was...a person?

 

Craig blinked some more, wondering if his eyes were tricking him. They weren’t.

 

It very much was a young male on top of him pinning him down. If he had to guess,  they were probably about the same age. Of course, because of the way he was situated on top of him, limiting Craig’s range of movement, he couldn’t get a good look at him.

 

He could see that he had blond hair that was extremely messy, as if he hadn’t attempted to take care of it a day in his life. He was also pale, much paler than Craig. His face was thin with a pointy, but not at all unattractive nose. Most interestingly, his face was covered with black lines snaking his face, even covering his eyelids. It was a very odd fashion choice that Craig had never seen before. Despite having attacked him and continuously pinning him down, he didn’t look  _ angry. _ More like he was confused, his gaze was carefully analyzing Craig.

 

The eyes that were analyzing him were deep blue, like the color of a twilight sky. Craig also noticed that there seemed to be flecks of yellow in them. He realized that he had never seen eyes like that before.

 

Craig slowly opened his mouth to speak, despite all the air being knocked out of his lungs moments ago. “Who--”

 

As soon as noise came out of Craig’s mouth, the attacker’s expression turned from inquisitive to on guard, angry even. In less than a second, the attacker took his free arm and pulled out a blade. He brought it up to where Craig’s jaw met his neck, making it clear to Craig that he best not resist.

 

He started demanding something in strange words in a coarse language Craig didn’t understand. When Craig didn’t respond, he pressed his blade dangerously against Craig’s skin, threatening to slit his throat. Any confused look in his eyes were gone, now glaring into Craig’s own like daggers. He demanded things in the strange language again.

 

“I don’t--” Craig managed. It was harder to speak than he expected. He hoped it wasn’t from hitting his head too hard.

 

“Do you understand  _ this _ ?” the blond asked. He had a strange accent, but yes, Craig could understand perfectly.

 

“I...yeah, I do,” was all he could manage.

 

“You’re far from home,” he accused, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Excuse me, but why exactly are  _ you _ doing here?” Craig found his eyebrows furrowing, “I was minding my own business, thank you very much, and I didn’t need someone attacking me out of nowhere unprompted.”

 

“Excuse me? You’re lucky I haven’t killed you!” he scowled, “Don’t you know that it is illegal for your kind to trespass in our territory? I have every right to take down an invader, just like you would if I wandered uninvited into yours! Which, I’m sure you know, is an action  _ your kind _ never hesitates with.”

 

“ _ Your _ territory?” Craig raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean  _ your _ \--”

 

Craig froze mid sentence. To be fair, it was something that should have been obvious, something that he should have figured out right away. What sort of human did he  _ expect _ to be in this forest? What  _ other _ sort of person would have attacked him like this?

 

“You’re a Barbarian,” Craig stated. It wasn’t a question.

 

“Obviously.” 

 

He was right. It  _ was _ obvious, given the context. It’s just, even if this guy could sneak up and get the best of him in a blink of an eye, even if he was covered in face paint and had extremely messy hair, even if he spoke a foreign language and had a thick accent, he still was absolutely nothing like he expected a Barbarian to be.

 

So he said it. “I didn’t think Barbarians looked like...Well…”

 

Barbarians were supposed to be huge, brutish people. The men were tall and muscular with perfectly triangular shaped torsos that they showed off with their lack of shirts. The women were also very large and said to be noticeably more masculine than any other human woman. Both would have long flowing hair that was corse from lack of care. They lugged around large clubs or swords that most civilized people, even the best trained knights, would find difficult to carry. They lived in the forest or on clifflands, using their strong, warlike bodies to climb up trees or cliffs. They were brutal, able to crack open someone’s skull with their mere fists. Even the youngest of children were said to be able to stone someone to death with a single throw or break a neck with a clean snap. Rumor had it, they often even ate the bodies of the innocent they killed.

 

Even if this guy on top of him  _ was _ dirty and shirtless, he didn’t seem anything like that.

 

“Like what?” the Barbarian frowned again, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Attractive?” he found himself blurting out. Instantly he regretted it. That wasn’t the word he was looking for.

 

No, it wasn’t that he was suddenly attracted to this guy on top of him. It was just, well...Barbarians were supposed to be...big and brutish and  _ ugly _ . Not someone smaller than him. Not someone with a babyface, especially a baby face that was  _ objectively  _ pleasing. It wasn’t that  _ he _ found his face attractive, he told himself. Anyone would. If he showed his portrait to anyone on the streets of Kupa City, they would all respond that he was a perfectly nice looking young man...Well, except of course for the hair and face paint. If he cleaned up, brushed his hair, and wiped off the paint then surely he could pass as anyone from Kupa--

“What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” the Barbarian nearly growled, interrupting his thoughts, “You think we’re all some ugly monsters or something?”

 

“Well…” Craig trailed off, “That is what we’re told. You guys are supposed to be all huge beefcakes or whatever, aren’t you?”

 

“You’re from Kupa, aren’t you?” 

 

“Yeah,” he said casually. He had started to completely ignore the direness of the situation and the fact that he was still pinned down. The Barbarian frowned.

 

“Has it ever  _ occured  _ to you that people from other parts of Zaron are just as complex and varied as Kupa? You don’t, do you? You people from Kupa only ever think of yourselves, never caring about anyone from outside your own kingdom.”

 

“Isn’t that a hypocritical statement?” Craig raised an eyebrow.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You said I shouldn’t paint people with a broad brush, but there you are presuming an awful lot about everyone in Kupa. Just thought you should know that.”

 

The Barbarian frowned and said something in his language under his breath. Then with another sigh, he got off of Craig. This action surprised him.

 

Slowly, despite his pounding head, Craig sat up. Immediately, the Barbarian jumped to his knees, quickly grabbing his blade once more and held it out defensively towards him. This allowed Craig to get a fuller look at his attacker.

 

He was shirtless, with the wrapping, snake-like black body paint on his face winding around to his arms and torso. He had a bow and arrow set around his back, the leather strap holding it crossing his chest. He wore brown pants that looked to be made of some sort of animal skin. On his feet were black boots lined with a sort of fur. As he figured, he was small. Not tiny or petite, but smaller than average build, tall heighted Craig. He was definitely not ripped like Barbarians were said to be, but instead very lean. That said, there wasn’t an inch of body fat on him, every bit of him covered in that very lean muscle.

 

He leaned forward more towards Craig with his blade in a more threatening manner, trying to create a more threatening scowl. Craig looked closer at his dirty hand that gripped the blade. It was trembling. This confused him greatly. This guy, this  _ barbarian _ couldn’t be  _ scared _ could he?

 

“Listen,” Craig raised both of his hands up in a surrendering motion, “You’re right. I have been told that all you Barbarians are giant thugs who kill anyone on sight. I didn’t ask for permission or anything to come through your territory or whatever, which yeah I guess is technically trespassing. Though since you haven’t killed me yet and I’m clearly wrong about your type, maybe you should calm down and hear me out as to  _ why _ I’m here so we can both go about our merry way?”

 

“That’s what I asked from you in the first place,” the Barbarian retorted. 

 

“Oh yeah,” Craig pondered, “You did, didn’t you?”

 

“Get on with it before I actually kill you!” the Barbarian yelled. He was getting pissed now.

 

“Okay, okay, fine,” Craig frowned, “You made me hit my head  _ really _ hard, you know? I probably got a concussion--”

 

“You have ten seconds!” he threatened. 

 

“I was getting there, geez!”

 

“Eight seconds.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m starting,” Craig huffed, “You don’t need to kill me, I’m not even here to stay in your precious forest territory or whatever. I’m just passing through because, you know, it’s kind of in the way of where I’m  _ actually _ trying to go.”

 

“And where might that be?” he raised an eyebrow.

 

“The High Elf Kingdom,” he crossed his arms, “On an important diplomatic mission.”

 

The Barbarian laughed. So much so that he ended up dropping his guard and let his blade fall to the ground. While laughing, he muttered some things in his odd language again.

 

“What’s so funny?” Craig asked defensively. He knew it was dangerous and all, but he didn’t get how it was any way some laughing matter for him to find humor in.

 

“Didn’t you say you were from Kupa?” he said as his laughter calmed down, wiping away a tear that had formed in one of his vibrant blue eyes.

 

“Well, yeah?”

 

“Then either you’re absolutely insane or have a death wish,” he said, “Everyone knows your two kingdoms hate each other more than anything. They’ll kill you on sight.”

 

“Well, yeah, obviously I know that. I knew when I took the mission that I’ll probably be killed. I don’t  _ want _ to die or anything, but I didn’t really have a choice. And, I mean...my mission  _ could _ work.”

 

“What sort of mission is it?” he asked.

 

Craig was thrown off by the question. There were various ways he could answer it. It probably wouldn’t be best to tell the truth, that he was going to kind of attempt to steal the magical stick to give it to a kingdom to change the power structure of Zaron and all. Even if Barbarians were neutral, it wasn’t exactly a good look. So instead, he’d give his cover story.

 

“I’m actually going on an attempted peace mission on behalf of the royal court,” he shrugged, allowing himself to sit in a more comfortable position on a patch of soft moss at the riverbank. He reached for his spilled canteen and filled it up once more.

 

“Peace?” he raised an eyebrow, “There’s no way your kingdom would want peace with them. Not after--”

 

“Well you know, things have changed,” Craig droned on, swatting away another pixie that flew by his face, “The old king has been dead for years, the princess is kinda useless, power balance within the kingdom hasn’t been what it was, all those sorts of things. The Wizard might hate the elves, but the fact is being enemies with them isn’t exactly profitable.”

 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asked in a softer voice. Craig reached into his satchel and pulled out the letter from the Wizard and tossed it to him. He realized he wasn’t entirely sure if the Barbarian could read, especially in this language, but he seemed to have no trouble as he opened it up and looked at the words carefully.

 

“Believe me now?” Craig asked.

 

“Feldspar,” he said slowly in his thick accent, reading the name on the paper.

 

“That’s me,” he said, reaching his hand to take it back, to which the Barbarian thankfully complied, “Now if you don’t mind me, I’ll be going now.” With that, he grabbed his canteen, got back up on his feet, and headed back towards the path which he strayed. His vision had stars, but he did his best to ignore it.

 

“Wait!” the Barbarian quickly scrambled to his feet as well.

 

“What?” he looked back over his shoulder back at him.

 

“My name is Tweek,” he called out, “I think since I learned your name, it’s only fair for me to tell you mine.”

 

“I don’t really care,” Craig responded bluntly. Barbarians were sure weird. In a way different from what he expected, anyway. He couldn’t wait to forget about this odd encounter forever.

 

“Well, listen!” he frowned once more, “There’s a reason I’m out here on my own. As is customary, I was told to leave my family until I could come back with some big contribution to them.”

 

“I still don’t really care.”

 

“Well, if you’re going to try and make peace between Kupa and the High Elf Kingdom, then maybe I could try to make peace as well. Despite what you may believe, we don’t  _ like _ being enemies with everyone. At least...parts of the royal family don’t. They would really appreciate me changing that.”

 

“Well, you do that,” Craig said uninterestedly. He wasn’t aware that they had a royal family as well, but frankly he didn’t care. Though he supposed it was typical, even this sort of warlike society would have privileged filth. 

 

“We don’t exactly have a  _ good  _ relationship with the High Elf Kingdom, but it’s substantially better than that between that of them and Kupa. Unlike you, they wouldn’t feel the need to shoot me on sight.”

 

“What are you trying to get at?” Craig groaned, getting very annoyed very fast.

 

“I think I should go with you!” Tweek offered, “I could help you with your travels and make things far safer for you, and in turn now three kingdoms have the potential for peace. It would be a win for everyone involved.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I said in the beginning notes, I had a lot of trouble considering how I should characterize Tweek.
> 
> The fact is, Tweek is very much messed up in canon by his parents drugging him with meth coffee. This version is pretty much Tweek's roleplay character who I would like to think doesn't have to deal with that, or at least I wouldn't really want to portray an equivalent. Problem is, I feel like that greatly changes who he fundamentally is as a character, as he is so affected by that. So I decided to sort of think of how he is in The Fractured But Whole, where we see more sides of him beyond his anxieties. 
> 
> That said, I do very much like exploring Tweek's issues. I actually have written a fic specifically focusing on this that you can read...even if I haven't updated it since June :'D
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you all think!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been able to write more consistently lately! Though this might be a little clunky, and I didn't proof as much as I should have. I have several WIPs, but I've mainly been going back and forth between this story and a Banana Fish kinda-sorta Cinderella au. If you like BF check that out as well!
> 
> Reminder that I also have a Tumblr I rarely update. Wintergrew.tumblr.com
> 
> Also I base [preconceived notions of] barbarians on things like Conan the Barbarian.

“I’m going to ask nicely once,” Craig stopped in his tracks, rubbing his temples in frustration, “Stop following me.”

 

“I have every right to keep my eye on a trespasser.”

 

“Yeah well, I’m not letting you come  _ with  _ me,” Craig rolled his eyes. He had made his way back to the main path and continued down it for several hours now, but no matter how many times he objected, the annoying barbarian would remain only a few yards behind him. It was grating on his nerves.

 

“Fine,” Tweek crossed his arms, “Then I just so happen to be going to the High Elf Kingdom, too. We’re both going on the same path. If you don’t want me officially with you, you won’t receive any of my help when things get more dangerous.”

 

“This is ridiculous,” Craig huffed as he continued on, “I’m doing this alone.”

 

“Like I said, then you’ll do it without my help.”

 

“I don’t  _ need  _ any hel--”

 

With that, a loud noise was emitted via the shuffling of leaves to the right of the path. Instantly, a large creature that Craig couldn’t recognize, especially at the speed that which it was going, flew out directly towards him. Caught off guard, he merely found himself falling to the ground, unable to reach for his blade in time.

 

Within a blink of an eye, something shot out at the creature, piercing its body. The creature fell a few inches away from him--if another split second had past, it would have surely mauled him. Craig got to his knees to examine what it was more closely.

 

A dragon? A very small one no larger than a cat, but still with razor sharp claws and fangs visible due to the way it fell open-mouthed. It was was dead, laying in a pool of its own blood from where it was pierced through the heart by a bow and arrow.

 

“You were saying?” Tweek asked.

 

“There are  _ dragons _ in this god awful forest?” Craig groaned.

 

“Only ones small enough to fly through the trees,” Tweek answered, walking over to where the dragon fell to pull out his arrow, “Their scales are too strong for your blade, by the way. I have special coated arrows that are able to penetrate them.”

 

“How do you people deal living with this shit flying around every day?” Craig asked bewildered.

 

“I won’t lie to you,” Tweek sighed, offering a hand to Craig to help him up. Craig refused it and instead stood up on his own. Tweek frowned but continued, “It is scary living here. When I was younger especially, I was always paranoid of everything. I think many of us are like that, but it was particularly bad for me, making kids my age look down upon me. Then one day I decided to stop being scared and train hard to make sure I could always protect myself.”

 

“That was a rhetorical question,” Craig replied emotionlessly, brushing off the dirt from his pants, “I didn’t want your life story.” 

 

The Barbarian glared at him. “Fine, get mauled to death next time a creature attacks you. You should know that the deeper you go, the more dangerous the forest becomes.”

 

Craig frowned. This guy was annoying as all get out, but he was right. He  _ did _ kind of just save his life.

 

“Fine...thank you,” Craig said. He paused for a moment. 

 

He really didn’t want a companion. He really wasn’t a people person in general, Clyde was his only real friend for a reason. For a mission as delicate as this, having someone with him would only cause more trouble. Especially if it was some barbarian he knew nothing about and had no real reason to trust.

 

Not that he thought this guy was lying about his intentions. He seemed oddly earnest enough, and part of Craig even wondered if he was even  _ capable  _ of lying. He didn’t kill Craig when he had the chance and didn’t  _ let _ him die either. Despite demonstrating twice now that he was a capable fighter, he seemed to go against all preconceptions Craig had about the barbarians.

 

“I-I guess I don’t mind you following me until we get out of this place,” Craig finally relented, “We can talk about everything once we’re out of this hellforest.”

 

“I’m glad you’re being reasonable--”

 

“But please don’t talk to me unless actually necessary. I don’t like pointless conversations.”

 

“Fine.” 

 

“Glad we’re in agreement,” Craig said as he continued going down the pathway. 

 

And so the two continued on for the rest of the day in silence. Since Tweek was obviously more familiar with the surroundings, he took the lead a few paces ahead while Craig silently followed. There were no more incidents, making Craig wonder if perhaps the barbarian was making things up when he claimed that it would get more dangerous. Although Craig’s head was still somewhat sore, it felt much better. He probably didn’t have a concussion after all.

 

When night fell, Tweek broke the silence and told them they had to find shelter for the night. Craig was ready to try to find an old hollowed log once more, but Tweek guided him in a very specific direction. Craig took note that the barbarian was counting his steps, not using the visual markers of the surroundings as a guide, heightening his theory about it spontaneously changing. The flora was very thick, Craig sure that he had at least a dozen magical thorns poking into him. Yet he also figured if this guy was doing the same thing shirtless, it must be okay. Unless of course barbarians just has some weird immunity from living here for who knows how many generations.

 

As he was thinking there was an odd yell, from what Craig couldn’t identify. Tweek quickly stopped in his tracks, grabbing Craig’s wrist . Craig instinctively yanked away from his grip, causing the barbarian to instantly glare at him while bringing a finger to his mouth to indicate that he should remain silent. After about a minute of silence from both the two as well as the strange creature, Tweek eventually broke his still position and kept going.

 

“You don’t need to yank away from me when I’m trying to not get us both eaten,” Tweek grumbled quietly.

 

“What was that?”

 

“An ogre,” Tweek huffed, “We’re near the swamp areas of the forest, so you have to take the threat of them seriously.”

 

“And you’re taking me  _ deeper _ into it,” Craig stated. It wasn’t a question. He also wasn’t previously aware that ogres were  _ another _ deadly part of this forest. It sure kept bringing more and more obnoxious surprises.

 

“I know a place.”

 

As it got darker and darker, Craig began to question this more and more. Perhaps he  _ shouldn’t _ have trusted Tweek. Maybe he was actually taking him to some ogre lair or even his own barbarian camp. That would be incredibly annoying for him to get out of, he thought.

 

Suddenly Tweek stopped at the base of an impressively large and wide tree. He bent down to its large extending roots and knocked on it three times in a seemingly specific rhythm.

 

“What are you doing now?” Craig asked, mildly annoyed.

 

Before Tweek would be able to respond, however, the tree suddenly glowed. As if by some magical flame, brighter lights shot out of the tree in the shape of an arch. The sudden reminder of the last time he saw magical flames made Craig sick to his stomach in an instant, almost sending him into a panic. Yet before said feelings could grow, the bark encompassed by the arch faded away, proving that it was an enchanted door or gateway.

 

“Hey it’s that kid again,” a high pitched voice accused. Craig couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.

 

“We want to stay here for the night,” Tweek announced in a dignified voice, the same one he used when first trying to convince Craig to let him join.

 

“After all you put us through?” the voice accused once more. Craig wondered if it was a disembodied voice. That was, until he looked down.

 

It was a gnome. Or at least he figured it was one, based on pictures he had seen. Little weird stocky creatures. Somewhat like dwarves but considerably smaller and lived in trees instead of underground caverns in far off mountain ranges. Unlike dwarves who were known to do business and maintain relations with other kingdoms civilly, gnomes did no such thing keeping to themselves...unless they were stealing. They were infamous for being pesky thieves. Craig instinctively reached for his necklace.

 

“Hey, you should be thanking me that I didn’t put you in  _ more _ trouble,” Tweek frowned, “I could always go back and report how you--”

 

“Alright, alright!” the gnome raised his hands up, “But who’s the newbie. He doesn’t look like one of you.”

 

“Feldspar,” Tweek introduced him, “We’re traveling on important business together.”

 

“Hello,” Craig responded emotionlessly.

 

“Wait, you understand me?” the gnome gasped.

 

“Yes, he’s from Kupa,” Tweek said walking past the gnome to enter into the tree. Craig hesitated, not knowing how much he should trust a magical doorway, but did.

 

The inside of the tree was very odd. Although the tree was already massive, it was apparent that magic greatly expanded it. Everything was obviously made of wood, being carved from the inside of a tree trunk and all, and contained what looked like little apartments carved out going up the very tall tree, connected by wood ladders, some built into the tree itself while others were free standing. About a dozen or so other gnomes rushed out, quickly surrounding the two humans’ feet. They chattered, too many of them in too many high pitched squeals for Craig to really pick up on what they were saying individually beyond the generic curious comments and questions.

 

“Hey, you’re from Kupa?” one asked, trying to use Craig’s pants to climb up his leg.

 

“Get off,” Craig swatted at him. He patted himself, making sure nothing was stolen. He only just met gnomes for the first time and he could already tell he would likely find all of them intolerable.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” Tweek assured Craig before turning to the gnome that let them in, “We can stay at the top, right?”

 

“Sure, sure,” the presumably head gnome rolled his eyes.

 

With that, Tweek signalled for Craig to follow him. With so many little gnomes crowding him, he found it quite difficult to avoid stepping on them. He didn’t like them, but he didn’t want them crushed to death for it. Tweek, who clearly knew the way, guided him to one of the built-in ladders at the wall of the tree that had gaps large enough for a human to climb, and began to ascend up it. 

 

Craig had obviously climbed and scaled many buildings, ladders, and so forth in his many years of thievery. Yet Tweek, presumably from all his years of tree climbing, was much quicker. It shocked him how quick he was, not at all seeming cautious over the tall height they were reaching, as if it were second nature. Craig himself wasn’t afraid of heights, but even still once he was at neck-breaking-if-you-fall heights, he did try to take his time and make sure he wouldn’t slip.

 

After a few minutes of climbing up the seemingly endless height of the tree, eventually they approached what looked like a ceiling of sorts with a decently large square carved out at the end of the ladder for them to climb through, though with a several foot gap between the end of the ladder and it. Tweek pulled himself into it no problem. When Craig reached it, however, he hesitated.

 

He made the mistake of looking down. He was so impossibly high that he could barely see the bottom. To get into the room at the top, he would have to let go and pull himself up by his own weight without slipping. He wasn’t ever afraid of heights before, but this didn’t seem safe. A rare sense of panic crept over him.

 

“Give me your hand,” Tweek reached out for him.

 

“I don’t like this,” Craig said, “I don’t wanna die of falling to my death in a goddamn gnome tree thing.”

 

“I won’t let you fall,” Tweek told him, “I promise.”

 

After a few moments of hesitation, slowly Craig removed one hand from the ladder and reached for the blond’s hand. Tweek grasped it tightly and pulled it up as Craig placed his other hand at the ledge. Craig was able to push off where his feet were on the ladder, and between the two of them, he was able to be pulled into the room.

 

When Craig saw the room he was in, he was shocked. It was very human sized, with beds, tables, and everything one would find in a normal human dwelling, albeit carved entirely out of wood. Many of the things were carved directly from the tree, unable to be moved. Not only that, but the craftsmanship and small details was beyond that of anything Craig had  _ ever _ seen in Kupa City, even in the homes of the wealthy. It was lit, but much like the rest of the tree, Craig suddenly realized he had no idea what by. Perhaps a magic of some kind.

 

“This is their room for humans or other similarly sized creatures,” Tweek told him, “Obviously, they don’t use it much anymore. I think here they only had it because they wanted to keep with tradition.”

 

“What do you mean?” Craig asked.

 

“What do mean ‘What do you mean’?” Tweek raised an eyebrow.

 

“Aren’t these guys pests that pretty much just steal from humans?” Craig wandered over to the large bed. It had a quilt on it from the same scratchy looking material the gnomes clothes were made of.

 

“You don’t know the history?” he asked skeptically.

 

“Nope, and I don’t really care,” Craig said laying down on the bed. Being wood, it was obviously hard. No complaints though, he slept in worse situations.

 

“Well you should,” Tweek frowned, irritation in his voice, “It was  _ your _ people who banished them from their homeland, afterall.”

 

“And where might that be?” Craig yawned, stretching his arms and putting them behind his head.

 

“They really don’t tell you,” Tweek said astonishedly, “They don’t tell you how Kupa was originally the gnome’s kingdom? How before you were hideous farmland, Kupa was a very peaceful forest, far more inviting than this one? How the gnomes and your people tried living in harmony selling their woodwork until  _ your wizard _ decided to destroy everything they had and banish them here?”

 

“Huh,” Craig’s eyes widened. That  _ was _ awful. Yet after everything he knew about the Wizard and his centuries of influence, he couldn’t exactly say it was the most surprising revelation he had ever heard.

 

“I know more than you about how much they steal,” Tweek frowned, “But it’s still not right.”

 

“You keep acting as though I’ve always been in some privileged authority to do something about it.”

 

“Aren’t you?” Tweek accused, “I know you said you didn’t have much of a choice in this mission, but you’re still a diplomat aren’t you?”

 

Craig laughed at the thought, “Absolutely not.”

 

“Then what?” 

 

“I’m just a street thief,” he shrugged. After he said it, he wondered if he shouldn’t. Would it give away that he was actually trying to steal from the High Elf Kingdom? He decided to continue, “They know it’s a dangerous suicide mission, so they might as well use someone disposable for it. It was either this or being hung. They know I wouldn’t just run off when I had my friend’s life at stake.” All of that was technically true.

 

“So you don’t have any sort of background in this?” Tweek said incredulously, sitting on the end of the bed, “Yet they expect you to make negotiations?”

 

“They gave me some training.”

 

“I see,” Tweek looked down, pondering this for a few moments. As he dwelt on the new information, suddenly his expression irritated. “Hey, if you’re a thief then you have no right to judge gnomes for that!”

 

\---

 

Craig awoke before Tweek the next morning. Although the bed was big, neither of them would have been comfortable sharing it, so Tweek opted to sleep on the sofa on the other side of the room. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, wrapped up in a little ball, that it was hard to believe this was the guy who attacked him, constantly nagged at him, and was able to kill a dragon in the blink of an eye with a single shot. 

 

He was sure a weird one. He wondered if all barbarians were like this. It was hard to believe that he came from society that was known for brutally murdering and eating people without any just cause. Perhaps, just as a lot of information in Kupa was filtered and misconstrued, it was all false propaganda all along.

 

With a sigh, he decided to see what there was in the kitchen section of the quarters. Some gnomes came up via a smaller ladder built alongside the human friendly one last night and gave them some of their dinner. They also informed the two of them that there was food readily available for them to eat in the morning. It was very odd that so many of the citizens decided to be so gracious to them,  _ especially _ if Tweek had caused them trouble and Craig was from a kingdom they would have reasons to despise. He almost wondered if it was poison, hesitating to eat until after he saw Tweek take quite a few bites. He also made sure all of his stuff was still there. It was.

 

He noticed a teapot and some dried up leaves. There was a dug out hole in the tree bark full of water, he presumed either magic or a form of liquidy sap, with a wood cup beside it. He filled the cup and the water seemed to replenish itself. It was warm, so he poured it directly into the pot along with putting tea leaves in the filter. No heat would be required. Convenient.

 

As for food, it was regular sized. A lot of things one would expect forest people to eat, albeit things he never recognized and all nonperishable due to their lack of human visitors. Dry fruits of very strange vibrant colors, a type of cracker, some jerkified meat, some jam. He decided he could make a decent breakfast out of it, grabbing two wooden plates. He took small bites of each unrecognizable thing to determine what would go well together and spread them out on the crackers. He then determined that the tea sat long enough and went to put it in two cups. He placed all of them on the dining table in the center of the quarters.

 

“Hey,” Craig went over to Tweek to nudge him slightly, “Wake up.”

 

The barbarian groaned. Craig couldn’t tell if they were odd, generic moans or words in his own language.

 

“Hey,” Craig shook him slightly harder, “I made us breakfast.”

 

Suddenly, the sleeping boy was wide awake and sat up. “You made  _ us _ breakfast?” he asked with disbelief in his voice, “Why?”

 

“Might as well, since I was doing it anyway. No point waiting for you to get up and making it yourself,” he explained with a frown, “You don’t need to make it weird.”

 

“Well...thanks, Feldspar.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Craig rolled his eyes as he turned to walk to the table, “Let’s just eat so we can get out of here.”

 

“Yeah,” Tweek agreed.

 

They sat eating in mostly silence. The tea was your typical tasting tea and the food Craig prepared wasn’t bad at all. The crackers were a little old, but all and all the meal had far more flavor than anything he’d have eaten as a child.

 

“How many more days in this forest?” Craig asked.

 

“Two or three, I’d think.”

 

“The gnomes--They seem hospitable and didn’t steal any of my shit,” Craig noted through a mouthful of food, “It seems they have an odd history with you. You can trust them?”

 

“They won’t steal from me,” Tweek told him, “Not after our history, they owe me big time for having sympathy for them. After when I was young, all the times that they--”

 

“Wasn’t asking for a story,” Craig cut him off, “But that’s good to know, I guess.”

 

“They aren’t all that bad,” Tweek said, taking a sip of his tea, “I know you don’t want a story, but I have more reason than probably anyone to have a grudge against them. They stole from me, terrorized--”

 

“That’s giving me the whole story.”

 

“Why are you so rude?” Tweek asked, slamming his cup to the table, “After all that I’m helping you--If it weren’t for me--” his face turned red and seemed unable to find the words he wanted to say through his frustrations. He said something under his breath in his language, probably a curse word.

 

“Are all barbarians as talkative as you?” Craig threw back at him, “I thought you guys were brutes who are kill first, ask questions later, not...naggy.”

 

“I told you, we’re not some collective hivemind!”

 

“Well? On average then.”

 

“You answer my question first!”

 

“This is stupid,” Craig stood up, taking his finished plate and cup back to the kitchen area, “If you don’t like that I’m a rude asshole--which I knowingly am, by the way--you don’t have to keep following me.”

 

“I’m not doing it for you!” 

 

“Then who?” Craig found his irritation levels rising dangerously high for his standards, “You saw that I’m going on a mission and you’re trying to tag along. You could have gone on your own if you wanted to do some diplomacy. You could have done it without me. You’re the one who attacked me and decided on the spot that you’re going to leave your homeland for some suicide mission with a stranger from a kingdom you hate.”

 

“I  _ told  _ you, I have wanted peace for a long time! I can’t return home until I prove myself and you’re already going on an official mission with official paperwork, so what better opening is that? Trust me, I wish it wasn’t someone like  _ you _ .”

 

“Whatever. Just--Just do what you want. I don’t care anymore” Craig told him. He forced himself to take a deep breath to prevent any further annoying escalation.

 

From there, the two got ready to go about their way in silence. Craig wasn’t nearly as scared going back down, irritation already controlled his emotions too much. They said their proper goodbyes to the gnomes, both trying to sound cordial through their annoyed dispositions, and Tweek guided him out and back onto the main path.

 

Tweek was clearly more upset than Craig was, frowning and walking in a pace that was clearly full of pent up anger. Craig still didn’t get it, there was nothing nor anyone that was forcing him to stay. They only knew each other for a day now. Yet still he went on, guiding the way in silence, only stopping to gather some fruits growing on a bush.

 

“Edible,” was all he said.

 

At another point, Tweek tackled Craig seemingly unprompted into the shrubbery. 

 

“Ogre,” he whispered into his ear as he remained pinned on top of him.

 

Sure enough, less than a minute later there were very loud footsteps approaching. The footsteps got closer and closer, until Craig could see its slimy dark green legs mere feet away from him. It roared. Craig stopped breathing. Could it smell them? Would it swing its large club to try and get them out? Tweek tightened his grip, practically hugging him.

 

However after a few moments of the ogre pausing, it continued going about its way. It crossed the path to the other side. They remained laying there in silence for a few more minutes to be safe until finally Tweek wordlessly got off of him and went back to the path. He didn’t try to help him up or wait for him, merely continuing down the path. Craig brushed himself off and ran to join him.

 

He did wonder how powerful ogres must be that Tweek’s only action against them was to hide and stay silent. He was able to shoot down a small dragon in a single shot, afterall. But he knew Tweek wasn’t going to talk to him, and he figured he didn’t really need to know that much anyway.

 

That night, they stayed in an abandoned treehouse. Tweek still wasn’t speaking to him, so he didn’t bother explaining it. As much as Craig liked the newfound silence, he started to question whether traveling so long on bad terms really was the best circumstance. Especially when this was two nights he got out of staying in a dirty log for the night.

 

“How long does that paint on you last?” Craig asked as they ate the fruits Tweek collected for dinner. It was still somewhat light out, they came to the treehouse in the late afternoon. It looked faded slightly in some spots, so he presumed it wasn’t permanent.

 

“It depends,” he answered abruptly.

 

“Okay, how much longer until this fades off?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do all barbarians wear it?”

 

“Depends.”

 

Yep, still mad. He showed no signs of budging right now, so Craig decided to leave it alone. He could always try it again in the morning, after they both slept it off. 

 

“Listen…” Tweek finally let out after another minute of silence.

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“You’re right,” Tweek told him, “You  _ are  _ on an important mission, and I  _ am  _ inserting myself into it. You don’t have any reason to trust me or think that I’ll benefit you once we leave this forest.”

 

Craig’s eyebrows raised. That wasn’t what he expected to hear from him.

 

“It’s alright,” Craig said after a few more moments, “You want what’s best for your people and...so do I.”

 

“I thought you were doing this for your friend, not for Kupa--”

 

“Not for Kupa,” Craig explained, “For all the people  _ in _ Kupa who have to deal with their bullshit.”

 

“You say that Kupa discriminates other races and kicked out the gnomes, and you’re right,” Craig told him, “But you’re wrong in thinking that everyone in Kupa is  _ privileged _ or  _ complacent  _ in this. A lot of people in Kupa have it far worse off than most places.” 

 

“Worse?” Tweek asked.

 

“Well first of all, it’s not just magical races they keep out. They also take away any commoners born there with abilities as infants, probably killing them. Very few live in nice houses or whatever, the majority are piss poor farmers who are practically slaves to their own land, only ever working day in and day out for scraps. Don’t even get me started on their  _ real _ slave business. The rich are all greedy assholes who don’t care about anyone but themselves. They would rather let children starve in front of them than give up a single one of their jewels.  _ That’s  _ why I was a thief, by the way. Not because I wanted to, not because I took from people for no reason, but because my friend and I were starving street kids, and none of them ever cared about us.”

 

He had no idea why he was sharing this. He didn’t need to share this.

 

“So you can give your backstory, but I can’t?” Tweek said. Craig looked to him and saw in the dimming twilight that he had a smirk on his face.

 

“...Yeah, I guess I just did that, didn’t I?”

 

“You’re not really a people person, are you?” Tweek quietly laughed.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Then I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Tweek yawned, “Though...We don’t have to like each other, but if we’re going to work together, we probably shouldn’t fight.”

 

“I was thinking the same thing.”


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek frowned. “You have such a black and white way of thinking, you know.”
> 
> “What do you mean?” Craig asked. That was the first time a person used that specific sentence to describe him. He got called stubborn a lot not to mention being too pragmatic (which was a concept that never made sense to him), but not ‘black and white’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR USER TENDERANDMILD DREW FANART! IT IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH! Check it out here: http://tenderandmild.tumblr.com/post/184042125113/this-is-based-off-the-part-in-wintergrew-s Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this fic in any way, even just by reading it. :D
> 
> By the way, I do have a playlist I use when writing this fic, if anyone is interested. Some of the songs are kind of unrelated, but more mood music. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0nOrVAorTdVofDKah7BHXe

Craig awoke to the sunrise on his face through the treehouse. As he sat up, the boards squeaked loudly. He quickly looked to Tweek to see if the noise had woken him, but he remained asleep with his arm wrapped around his head, shielding him from the growing sunlight.

 

Where they were staying was honestly less of a treehouse and more like a sort of platform. Suddenly he wondered if it was used for sniping arrows. He wasn’t sure why Barbarians would need that, Tweek showcased that he was fine shooting from the ground, not to mention that they were far enough off the main path that it wouldn’t be the most obvious place to wait for passersby, be it animals or humanoids.

 

He stretched and yawned--though he tried to do so quietly enough to not wake Tweek. He wasn’t sure  _ why  _ he was avoiding waking him. Maybe he  _ should _ wake him so they could get an early start on the day. Yet for some reason, he decided to let the barbarian sleep while he collected his thoughts.

 

_ “Why are you so rude?” _

 

Tweek’s words from yesterday echoed in his mind.

 

Craig knew that he was a rude person. People said it to him all the time. Clyde would say it with a laugh, Red to tease him and get on his nerves, Bebe with annoyance, Wendy with malice. To him, said what he thought and didn’t care if others liked him. It wasn’t a trait he was proud of or anything, but at the same time he didn’t really care or actively try to change it. In fact, if he was going to be honest with himself, part of him actively didn’t  _ want _ people to like him.

 

Well, it wasn’t exactly like he wanted to be  _ hated _ . He didn’t set out trying to think of ways for people to despise him. That said, he never went out of his way to try to make people  _ like _ him either. Even with Clyde. Clyde and him had been through so much and knew each other so well, that he didn’t  _ have _ to do anything for him to like him--he could be unapologetically himself. 

 

Clyde was always enough for him. Even if he wasn’t enough for Clyde. Clyde had Bebe, he had his other friends...but that was fine. Clyde was a lot more social of a person, he wanted a lot of human interaction. Craig didn’t.

 

He didn’t really want to think about the reasons  _ why  _ he was the way he was. He always told himself that as a thief with no loyalties, that was how he  _ should  _ be. Yet deep down he knew he was that way before he became one and would have been this way regardless. And so, sometimes he would fall down that rabbit hole and question these things about himself, but he’d quickly try to pull himself out of it and think of something else. He just wasn’t a people person, he figured. That’s fine. Not everyone  _ has  _ to be.

 

Before long he heard a yawn. Tweek had just woken up.

 

“Morning,” Craig nodded towards him.

 

“Good morning,” Tweek returned the greeting, his voice noticeably still tired, “How long have you been up?”

 

“A little while,” he shrugged, “I’m usually an early riser. When I was younger, my family always got up before sunrise. In the past few years, I’ve been sleeping in more often with the curtains closed, but I can’t sleep with sunlight in my face.”

 

“Is that normal in Kupa?”

 

“In my village it was,” he answered, “Though not in the city. A lot of the rich stay up until daybreak partying like assholes and wake up at noon. Your people?”

 

“I guess it depends,” Tweek leaned back, trying hard to think about an answer, “What someone’s job is, personal preference. We have parties and festivals that go late into the night, so I guess in those situations people will wake up late in the day.”

 

“You have festivals?”

 

“I thought you didn’t want stories or rambling,” Tweek raised an eyebrow.

 

Craig frowned. “Forget I asked, then.”

 

“We do,” Tweek childishly giggled, “For different parts of the year--winter festivals, fall festivals, things like that. Others for activities like music or games. Also, of course, for events celebrating occasions and events that happened long ago. Some variations or tribe specific ones...depending.”

 

“I wouldn’t have thought.”

 

“Kupa is the same, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, “My favorite was the spring equinox. My mom always made us snacks with honey.”

 

“I’m confused. You said you were a street kid before, didn’t you?” 

 

Craig was caught off guard. He did admit that, didn’t he? Now he was subtly giving details of her serf life with his family. He was quickly sharing far too much with this guy.

 

“I don’t really like talking about my past,” Craig told him. An honest answer.

 

“Alright,” Tweek stood up, rummaging through his things for the fruit he picked yesterday, “Then I won’t ask. Breakfast now?”

  
  
  


They continued their trek through the seemingly endless forest. As Tweek had warned, there were more and more dangerous creatures that they came across that the barbarian would promptly deal with. It made Craig feel a bit useless--he was always considered good at protecting himself and had just received vigorous training to improve, yet there this lean blond guy would already handle before he even realized there was something  _ to _ handle.

 

What they didn’t ever deal with, Craig suddenly realized, was other Barbarians.

 

“Where are all of your people?” he found himself asking, “I was warned that you guys are everywhere and watch over your roads. Kind of like you but, you know, not  _ just _ you.”

 

“Usually there would be,” Tweek shrugged, “Now is just special. You’re lucky, I guess.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We were talking about festivals this morning,” Tweek answered. He paused for a moment before continuing, “Right now is one of our most important ones. Everyone is busy deep in the woods celebrating it. It’s against tradition to do any other of our duties right now.”

 

“Except for you, I take it?”

 

“Like I said, I’m away from my tribe,” he told him, his voice slightly melancholy, “I’m at the age where I have to prove myself. I’m not a part of any festivals or traditions until I do so. This festival was always my favorite, so I do miss it.”

 

“They had you do this right before then?” Craig asked, “That’s pretty shitty.”

 

“I’ve been away for a while.”

 

“Define awhile.”

 

“Not quite a year.”

 

Craig nearly coughed. “ _ A year _ ? Why didn’t you just set up a trap to kill an ogre or something and call it a day?”

 

Tweek laughed, “Well, that’s the sort of thing a lot of us do. I would too, probably, but...the standards are, well... _ different _ for me I guess.”

 

“I guess it’s no wonder why you wanted to follow me, I guess,” Craig found himself thinking out loud, “I’d go fucking crazy if I had to wander this hellforest alone for a year. You parents must be real assholes to put that sorta pressure on you.”

 

“It’s not their fault,” Tweek insisted, “But...this morning you said you didn’t want to talk about certain things. Well, this is the sort of thing  _ I  _ don’t want to talk about.”

 

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

 

“Speaking of things not to talk about,” Tweek quickly changed the subject, “I really shouldn’t have told you about the festival. Like you said, outsiders expect us to be on the lookout at all times. If everyone knew when our festivals were, when we’re most vulnerable--”

 

“Believe me, I’m not the sort of person who would have bothered to mention it anyway.”

 

“Right,” Tweek frowned.

 

It was then another one of those obnoxious pixies flew around them. Craig quickly swatted one as soon as it came near his face. It fell to the ground a few feet away.

 

“Feldspar!” Tweek scolded quite angrily, running over to the fallen pixie.

 

“What?” Craig shrugged, “A pest flies into my face, I’m going to swat it.”

 

“Pixies aren’t  _ pests _ !” Tweek glared at him as he kneeled down very carefully and gently picked up the pixie in his hands, “I can’t believe you just--look she’s hurt!”

 

It was definitely an unexpected sentiment for him to hear from a barbarian. Even one like Tweek, despite learning that many of his misconceptions of them were wrong. He saw Tweek kill dangerous creatures without hesitation. It was still true that barbarians killed trespassers without a second thought, Tweek himself saying upon their first meeting that he would have been justified to do so.

 

“For such a warlike, brutal race, I can’t say I expected you to care,” he spoke a summary of his thoughts.

 

“We don’t senselessly kill for the sake of it. We have honor, you know,” Tweek still glared as he stood up with the pixie resting in his palm, “We try to  _ protect _ this forest, especially those weaker than us. Pixies are beautiful, peaceful creatures who call this place home as well. Who are you, an outsider, to come into their home and hurt them?”

 

That was a good point, Craig had to admit. He didn’t have an answer, so he decided to remain silent.

 

Tweek carefully walked over to the edge of the path, pixie still in hand. With his other hand, he carefully helped the pixie stand up on his palm and very lightly brushed off some of the dirt on her with his finger. After a few moments, the pixie fluttered her wings. She flew up to Tweek’s face and kissed his nose before flying off deep into the forest.

 

“She’s lucky,” Tweek told Craig as he started to continue their trek down the path, “She was mostly just in shock. She could have bent a wing or broken her neck.”

 

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry. I won’t swat at them anymore.”

 

“You know,” Tweek said after a few moments of silence between them, “You keep calling this place a  _ ‘hellforest’ _ . You...aren’t  _ wrong  _ that it can be incredibly dangerous and scary. It’s full of all sorts of things that can kill you, tainted with magic that isn’t always...pure. It isn’t exactly the easiest place for people to live in and to be honest maybe us barbarians  _ are _ crazy for doing it.” He paused once more.

 

“Yeah?” Craig prompted him.

 

“But it isn’t  _ just _ all those things,” Tweek finally continued, “If you actually stopped only viewing it as something dangerous and terrible, I think you could appreciate all the beauty here as well. I have never left this forest, but I know Kupa Keep bans all magic, so...even if you find things like pixies annoying, don’t our, I don’t know,  magical  _ plants _ interest you? There is so much there is to offer that you seem to completely ignore.”

 

“I’m trying to survive a mission, not go on some self-discovering nature hike,” Craig rolled his eyes.

 

Tweek frowned. “You have such a black and white way of thinking, you know.”

 

“What do you mean?” Craig asked. That was the first time a person used that specific sentence to describe him. He got called  _ stubborn _ a lot not to mention being  _ too pragmatic _ (which was a concept that never made sense to him), but not ‘black and white’. 

 

It’s true, he did previously think of a lot of things in a black and white way. He thought Barbarians were all ugly brutes. He still thinks elves are awful. He hates nobility. Okay, maybe he  _ did _ have a black and white way of thinking.

 

He thought back to that bard he met at Red’s tavern. He spoke of how Barbarians weren’t blindly murdering brutes but instead nice people, going against everything he had learned about them. He told Craig to question everything he thought he knew about Zaron. Though he was  _ also  _ a spy who got Red killed. It’s possible he was speaking on experience, but he felt it was more likely he was making things up. He decided not to take anything that bard said seriously.

 

He looked around once more. He guessed the flora here  _ was _ pretty. But he still didn’t see how it would be prudent for him to stop and smell the glowing roses instead of keeping watch of his step. For all he knew, the glow could be a sign of poison. It was easy enough for Tweek that probably knew what everything was and was  _ used _ to this way of living. Hell, he toughed it out on his own for nearly a year. He had no right to judge him for keeping on guard over letting himself become distracted.

 

So for that reason, he decided to dismiss what Tweek had told him. 

 

That whole dealing did, however, led them back to journeying on in near total silence. Even when they stopped for a lunch break of food Craig had brought with him, they only had a minimal exchange of words.Not the angry silence like yesterday, but instead like that which they agreed upon the night before. They didn’t have to like each other, they probably were far too incompatible of people with their own personal worldviews  _ to _ like each other. Perhaps not speaking to avoid saying something that would irritate the other would be the best course of action. 

 

“Where are we going to sleep tonight?” Craig finally broke the silence as he noticed it was beginning to get dark, “You seem to always know a place.”

 

“I don’t know of any shelter all the way out here,” Tweek admitted, “This isn’t really a part of the forest I know that well.”

 

“So we’ll camp the old fashioned way?” he asked.

 

“Well...there’s a pond not far from here,” he added, “It should be safe and can also get us water. Maybe fish, too, if we can catch some.”

 

“Alright.”

 

And so, about a half an hour later Tweek led them off the main path and down to a pond, just like Craig expected. What he  _ didn’t _ expect was just how this pond would look. Or any of the land surrounding it, for that matter.

 

For one, it wasn’t like any riverbank he’d ever seen--ones he was used to were just a little bit of cleared out land and generally quite rocky. This was a full on meadow, as if he had left the forest entirely. Unlike the darkness of the forest with glowing dark blue flowers and such this, even in the dimming daylight, was very bright and colorful. It was full of pinks and purples and other pastel colors all around. The pond itself too looked nothing like a body of water he had ever seen. It was a weird hodgepodge of different shades of pinks, blues, purples, and so on. All around, dozens and dozens of pixies of various color glows flew about.

 

“I like to come here,” Tweek told him, “But it’s a little out of the way, so I don’t often.”

 

“It’s sure...something,” Craig said, a loss for words.

 

“It’s said the fairies and their unicorns once lived here,” Tweek explained, “But the fairies left the forest generations ago, so it’s been taken over by the pixies.”

 

“My sister would love this place,” Craig found himself blurting out without thinking. Well, it was true. It was the stereotype of every little girl’s dream. Even someone as stubborn as Craig had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful. Still, he immediately regretted bringing his sister up.

 

“You have a sister?” Tweek asked. That was entirely why Craig regretted blurting it out.

 

He considered pulling the I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it card. That would be the smartest option, strategically speaking, and also would prevent him from opening that can of emotional worms he tried so hard to suppress. The last thing he wanted was to get emotional in front of this guy.

 

“ _ Had _ ,” he found himself admitting instead.

 

“Oh,” Tweek’s expression fell, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. You didn’t know,” Craig shrugged. He quickly tried to change the subject, “You said there  _ were _ fairies and unicorns here? What made them leave?”

 

“It’s not known,” Tweek shrugged, “It’s more of a legend anyway.”

 

“I guess Kupa has a magical creature you don’t then,” Craig commented, “The princess had a unicorn. I’ve never seen it, though.”

 

“They aren’t banned like the other magical creatures?” Tweek’s eyes widened.

 

“They’d be banned anywhere else, but if you’re royalty I guess rules don’t matter. There’s a reason why I hate nobility, especially royals.”

 

“I see,” Tweek said, frowning.

 

“Hey, that water--are you sure it’s okay to drink? I don’t want to get sick on some weird rainbow water.”

 

“Perfectly,” Tweek’s troubled expression turned into a smile, “It’s magic infused, they say it’s even  _ better  _ for you.”

 

They then set out to prepare for the night. As Tweek said, the water didn’t instantly poison Craig. It was weirdly sweet, as though it wasn't entirely water at all. They were also able to catch a few of the weird (and also strangely sweet) rainbow-y fish in the pond and set up a little campfire to cook them. Craig trusted Tweek that they were safe here.

 

“We should reach the edge of the forest in less than half a day,” Tweek told him after they finished their dinner.

 

“Oh thank God,” Craig laid back in the soft grass in relief.

 

“That means the start of the Neunbruck Kingdom,” he added.

 

“That’s right,” Craig sat up, “This will be your first time leaving the forest, isn’t it?”

 

Tweek didn’t speak, his mouth slightly agape, barely visible in the light of the fire.

 

“What?” Craig raised an eyebrow, slightly annoyed, “That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

 

“So you aren’t going to fight me going with you?”

 

“I thought we agreed to that already.”

 

“You only specified to the edge of the forest.”

 

“I guess I thought it was implied,” Craig thought about it, “Why, are you getting second thoughts?”

 

“No!” Tweek frowned, “I was planning on going no matter what. I just was hoping to not fight you over it.”

 

“Well you don’t have to anymore, I guess.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good,” Craig agreed.

 

“But you know,” Tweek suddenly added, “Neunbruck doesn’t really like Barbarians. This time  _ you’re  _ going to have to be the one to lead and deal with things.”

 

“Why don’t you just say you’re from Kupa Keep, too?” Craig offered, laying back down on the grass. He was getting sleepy fast. They didn’t have any sort of tent, but the sky was clear enough and it wasn’t cold, so it should be fine sleeping out in the open. Tweek insisted that predators don’t come here.

 

“Excuse me?” Tweek answered just as he was about to try to sleep.

 

“Just wipe off that paint or whatever and I’m sure they’d be none the wiser,” he yawned, shutting his eyes.

 

“That’s--I can’t just do that!” Tweek sounded greatly offended, “Going around without it would be against every tradition, every--”

 

“I thought you said while you were on this proving yourself thing you weren’t a part of that,” his voice even more tired.

 

Tweek groaned unintelligibly, but Craig found himself too tired to open his eyes once more before falling asleep to the pops of the dwindling fire.

  
  


The next morning, Tweek woke before Craig did. The fire had long since died out and was instead a pile of black ash, though Tweek had covered it with some flowers and stones to make it less of an eyesore in the beautiful meadow. Craig didn’t feel guilty--he knew from his formative days living a farmer’s life from his father that fire often helped the ground become more fertile. Still, that level of caring was something even after only a few days of knowing Tweek he had come to expect.

 

What he  _ didn’t _ expect was for Tweek to look entirely different.

 

Well, to be fair, maybe saying  _ entirely _ different was an overstatement. He still had the same clothes on, complete with no shirt. His hair was still messy, his body still not clean by Craig’s standards. He was still the same height, had the same piercing blue eyes, and lean muscle to him.

 

Still, he looked very different to Craig without that dark body paint snaking around him. Sure there were still specks of it here and there and his skin was rubbed raw and red from where he presumably scrubbed and scrubbed. But it was...odd.

 

“Could I pass as someone from Kupa now?” he asked.

 

“Probably not if you were  _ in  _ Kupa,” Craig answered honestly, “But without that paint you wouldn’t pass for a Barbarian, either. We can’t do anything about your accent, but we should probably get you a shirt or something.”

 

“No shirts,” Tweek demanded, “I already wiped off the paint. I’m not going to wear those torture devices.”

 

“Torture device?” Craig raised an eyebrow, “What the hell do you guys do in winter when it’s cold?”

 

“Barbarians are better at regulating body temperature,” Tweek said with full conviction.

 

“That doesn’t make any sense, but okay,” Craig doubted, but decided to allow it without further question. He looked around the meadow once more. It was even beautiful in the full daylight. “You know, if it’s only going to take half a day anyway we might as well take our time leaving.”

 

“You like it here?” Tweek asked.

 

“Better than the rest of the forest,” he shrugged. He did like it, but he had always been weird about admitting that sort of thing.

 

“I like it, too,” Tweek replied with a somewhat mischievous grin. Craig scowled. 

 

From there, Tweek caught a few more fish throwing his arrows like spears while he told Craig what sort of berries in the bushes were safe to pick for food. Pixies were everywhere flying about, some grabbing at his clothes while he tried to search for the berry bushes, but he decided to heed Tweek’s words and not swat at them but instead ignore them. He took off his hat and decided to use that to carry them. Before long, he noticed a handful of pixies using all their might to pull the berries off of the bush as well, their arms barely wrapping around them and the weight of them almost too much for them to keep their flight. Cheerfully, they carefully plopped the berries into Craig’s hat.

 

Maybe they weren’t so bad, afterall.

 

When his hat was full, he returned to where they had slept, many of the pixies cheerfully following him back. Tweek hadn’t set up another fire, but insisted merely diced them up and claimed that the type of fish he got was safe to eat raw as long as it was fresh. It seemed like a gross concept to Craig, but he wasn’t going to fight someone clearly more knowledgeable than him. Cautiously he took a bite of the fish. It was pretty good. The berries were also quite good.

 

Seeing the pixies still giggling about him, he pulled apart some of the fish and smashed a berry into smaller pieces. He held it up in his fingers and offered it up to the pixies. They hesitated, but eventually one flew forward and grabbed some, the others soon following suit. Tweek raised an eyebrow.

 

“They decided to help me pick berries, so it’s only fair,” Craig explained. Tweek smiled but gave no comment.

 

He looked at Tweek closely as he ate. He was sure a weird one. They had only known each other for a few days now, but he already got less on his nerves than before. Sure, he still didn’t  _ like _ him, but he didn’t get irritated just thinking about him anymore.

 

His usefulness aside, Craig was aware that bringing him along did endanger the mission. He had no idea how he was going to explain this next check in he’d give--which he hadn’t given one since he first entered the forest. He knew that the recommended order would probably be to just kill him, but Craig never once truly considered that option. In that case, the order would likely be to just get rid of him. He  _ could _ betray him at Neunbruck, and to be honest pragmatically speaking he probably  _ should _ . Neunbruck was pretty peaceful, so it would be very unlikely that they’d kill him and would at most just arrest him before returning him to the forest.

 

But for some reason, that hadn’t been what he planned on doing. This guy saved his life a number of times in the past couple days, betraying him felt wrong. Sure, he betrayed people for a living before and had no qualms about betrayal as  general concept, but usually that was about  _ objects _ not quite literally someone who saved his life.

 

He also figured he  _ would _ be of use once he reached elven territory. He  _ could _ help him get his foot in the door. In that way, keeping on with him  _ would _ be pragmatic.

 

He was going to have to betray him eventually, though. He wasn’t going to the High Elf Kingdom for peace. He was going there for thievery, to steal the stick. Not only that, but he was going to be giving it to essentially a dictator in order to have power over all of Zaron. Tweek probably wasn’t going to like that.

 

“I think we should get going,” Tweek called out, gathering his things.

 

Well, he’d cross that bridge when he’d come to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I have a twitter and tumblr, both also wintergrew!
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter! I'm trying to slowly go back and fix grammar/typos/logical consistencies, but that takes time and it's hard to catch all of them.


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